


name your price

by wincestgoddess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Dean in Panties, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Falling In Love, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Lapdance, Light Feminization, M/M, Nipple Play, Non-related Wincest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Stripping, Sweet morning sex, Thongs - Freeform, mention of rape, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestgoddess/pseuds/wincestgoddess
Summary: "Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind."If only someone would've told Sam before he fell for a hooker.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another fantastic RP that wouldn't be here today without my partner, who's given me full permission to post it!

Lighting up his cigarette with shaky hands, Dean leaned against the filthy brick wall and took a long drag, inhaling the sweet smoke before blowing it out, his features relaxing as the nicotine started doing its job. One hand slid down to his black, tight jeans and patted the wad of bills from his latest job.

Officer Rick was one of his regulars and most dreaded clients. The guy liked it rough enough to always leave Dean with a limp and a sore ass, not to mention that from time to time, he liked tying him up. At first, Dean flat out refused but Rick was insistent and offered more cash and well, who was Dean to say no when there was that sum of money involved? Apart from the whole bondage crap, Rick also liked talking dirty but god, it sounded right out of a bad, cheesy porno and it took everything in Dean's power not to scoff whenever he was called a 'dirty boy'. Still, it was worth it in the end, he got enough money to lay off the hard stuff for a while and could focus on only blowjobs for now. Guys paid just as well for Dean's lips.

Snapping his head up when suddenly a new, tall shadow entered the rundown alley, Dean squinted his eyes in the dark, trying to make him out from a distance. This was a usual spot for hookers but as the shadow came closer, Dean couldn't help but stare incredulously. This guy looked nothing like his usual clients; for starters, he was actually _hot_ , young and lean with a slightly shy air about him that made him all the more desirable. Dean doubted he had any trouble getting laid so what the hell was he doing here?

Tall guy suddenly stopped once he approached Dean, his eyes fixed on him and Dean cocked a brow as he took another drag from his smoke, promptly ignoring the way everyone around him was still listing prices and offering their bodies on a silver platter for this guy. "You lost? Sorry kid, but you don't really look like the type to be soliciting the services of a hooker."

Brady's a real fucker. Sam's gonna wring his fuckin' neck when he catches him. “Brady! Gimme my goddamn phone!" The asshole disappears around a corner and Sam's really too stoned for this. He trips over himself and barrels into the alley and shit. Wow. Stops dead and stares. It's teeming the way a still pond teems with algae and water skaters and gnats. There's so much skin Sam doesn't know where to look and they're all staring at him, pressing close and murmuring prices.

"Discount 'cause you're so pretty."

"You proportional, babe?"

"You can do me right here, sugar."

Sam shakes his head and shoulders past them, trying to stifle his awkward boner. "M'just looking for my friend," he mumbles, managing to trip out of the throng. He ends up face-to-face with the most beautiful man he's ever seen. His legs are a little bowed, trapped in ripped, tight black denim, and he's wearing this second skin of a tank top. The cigarette just adds to the sexy, even though Sam knows there's nothing hot about lung cancer.

"Um," he says when he realizes the hooker is speaking to him. "'Soliciting' is an awfully big word for a prostitute to know," he manages. What the fuck? Faced with a gorgeous man who will literally fuck you for money, and the first thing you do is insult him? Sam shook his head, trying to function past the haze of the weed. "Uh, I mean. How much?"

Dean's eyes narrow and he pushes himself off the wall, taking another drag from his cigarette and turning his head to blow out the smoke. "What can I say? I'm a well-read prostitute," He replies dryly. His gaze flickers down, not so subtly checking the guy out once he seems to have changed his mind and asks for his price.

A smirk tugs at his lips and Dean throws the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it to put it out, stepping closer to the tall man in the process, reaching out with one hand to place on his chest, fingertips trailing down slowly before pulling back. Make them want you; tease a little so they'll spend more money. "How much you got?" He asks instead and his smirk widens at the guy's confused expression and hazy eyes. Huh. A stoner, then. Even better. "C'mon, how much you got on you right now, stud?" His voice drops to a lower tone, green eyes boring into hazel ones as the guy seems to stammer out an answer. 

Sam stares down at the hooker. He's fucking beautiful. He's got these candy green eyes and these pink, pink lips. He looks like a doll. It's all offset by that jaw and stubble and the devil-may-care grin. Fuck. Sam presses a hand subtly to his crotch as he fumbles for his wallet. Downside of pot: boners literally all the time. That touch and the proximity really aren't helping "Um...I have twenty-seven bucks, Canadian dime, and a tab of acid. What can I do you for?" Fuck, he's beautiful. Sam wonders if his eyes taste like the Jolly Ranchers they look like. That's weird, dude. Relax. Sam grimaces, the bills fisted in his hand, wallet in the other. "That's not enough, is it? We can go to an ATM? I really wanna..." Fuck you. See what your mouth looks like when it's screaming my name. Fuck.

It takes all of Dean's effort not to huff at Sam's offer. He's low enough to sell his body for money but twenty-seven bucks? He's not _that_ low. Dean's expression of utter disbelief must've given it away though cause the kid's now offering to go to an ATM.

His eyes flicker down to Sam's crotch, easily catching the not-so-subtle shift when the guy tries to cover his boner; he then palms the bulge in his own tight jeans where Rick's money lays. He's made enough money tonight and his ass could really use a break after being roughly pounded into a squeaky, stained mattress, but on the other hand...this new client's a rare occurrence, someone who Dean actually finds himself attracted to and maybe, just maybe, he could let himself enjoy his not so honorable job for once in a long time.

Licking his lips, Dean's hand shots out once more to trail down to the stranger's jeans waistband, tugging him close. "No ATM tonight, baby. I'll take your twenty-seven bucks...and the acid." He smiles widely, his hand slipping under his shirt to come rest on his stomach, pressing against warm skin. 

Sam's about ready to slouch away–the hooker's obviously not impressed by his meager offer–when that hand is on him again, tracing over his body, and Sam jumps when it slips against his skin. “Shit. Uh, okay. Wanna go back to my place? Should probably wait on the acid until then. Shit'll fuck you up." Sam's not entirely sure he wants to fuck the hooker while he's tripping. It could be amazing, but the dude could also freak the fuck out. Sam's had experience with both. But what the fuck ever, if it means he's gonna get laid. He wraps a long arm around the guy's waist, pulling his tight body against his own. “So, uh, what's...what's your name?”

"Can't have both of us tripping, sugar." Dean gives him a knowing smirk. He knows better than to get high while on the job, he learned that one the hard way. Chewing on his lower lip, Dean shakes his head lightly to get rid of the oncoming memories and focuses on his client at hand instead, eyebrows raising in surprise when he offers going back to his place. Yeah, definitely a newbie. All his clients take him to either a cheap motel or if they're a little more wealthy, somewhere nicer for their own comfort; of course no one's gonna take a hooker home, but then again, he guesses this kid doesn't have much more to spend on motels. His arm wraps around his middle, idly stroking his side and grinning up at him. "Jason." The alias comes naturally by now. "What do I call you?"

“Uh...” Does it matter if he gives his real name? The dude's just a hooker. The silence stretches too long and Sam doesn't have an alternative answer, so he just says, "Sam."

Jason? Sam gets the inkling that's not his real name, but whatever. He doesn't care. He half-guides, half-drags the guy back to his apartment, suddenly fighting sleep. No, c'mon, don't fall asleep now, dude. Hot hooker, remember?

He shakes himself and lets them in, standing a little awkwardly in the door. “Um, anything to drink? I got beer, Coke–I mean Coca Cola, not cocaine. But I guess I could get you that if you wanted it," he babbles, eyes dragging up and down Jason's body.

Unless they're pretty wealthy, Dean's clients don't really care about giving out fake names so he's pretty sure Sam's not making it up on the spot, not to mention, the dude's stoned, he's not thinking too hard about it. His flirty smirk falters a bit when he notices the sluggish pace in which he's being lead to his apartment, almost as if he's fighting sleep. Great, with Dean's luck, Sam's gonna pass out before they even get started. He walks past the other into his apartment and turns to shake his head in amusement. "No, thanks. Now, I'm assuming you paid for the whole package?" He grins and raises an eyebrow questionably, plastering himself against the wall, one hand trailing down slowly to his chest in a sensual way.

Sam eyes the guys with a mix of amusement and arousal. He looks kind of silly posing against the wall like that with his 'take me now' face on, but Sam's also never been one not to admire a thing of beauty. “Is that what twenty-seven dollars, a Canadian dime, and a tab of acid will get me?" He crowds up against the guy, not pinning him to the wall, but push into his space, and holds his chin, just staring at his face for a while. He's gorgeous. Wow. Sam finally leans down to kiss him and sighs. Lips are just as soft as they look. He kinda tastes like cigarette smoke, but that's alright.

"Not really. Any other time, that offer would get you a handjob and you don't get to touch me back." Dean adds a little shy touch to his grin, biting down on his lower lip when Sam grips his chin, as if he's nervous at the closeness when really he couldn't be more used to people invading his nonexistent personal space. He keeps the kiss soft at first, lips moving against Sam's slowly as he raises a hand to cup his cheek, thumb gently rubbing over the smooth skin. That's right; just slowly ease him into it. Fuck, he's so tall, Dean has to lean up a little to kiss him properly. Bet he's proportionate, too.

Hmm, Jason's hot. Sam finds his hands wandering, pressing into the jut of the guy's hips, teasing at the top of his ass. The pot's amping up his sex drive and he's suddenly horny as hell. Sam hauls Jason up around his waist, gluing their mouths back together and stumbling towards his bedroom. Gonna fuck him real good. He gets there and lays the guy out, panting slightly and staring. Fuck. Sam dives back down to kiss him, pressing hum into the mattress.

Dean doesn't really have to fake the moan that slips into Sam's mouth as he picks him up and lays him down on the bed. God, it's been so long since he's actually felt attracted to one of his clients, since he's actually wanted sex. He has to chuckle softly though at the eagerness Sam's displaying though, nibbling on his lower lip and tugging at the flesh in between whispered words "Slow down there, cowboy. We got all night."

“Mhmm," Sam mumbles, reclaiming his lip with a small noise. Sleep’s taking over just as abruptly as the horniness did and he's actually gonna pass out right now. “D'you...stay the night? Pay you in the morning, promise," he mumbles sleepily against the guy's mouth. Sam blinks once, twice, and then his eyes slide shut for good and he collapses on top of him, face pressed into his neck.

With each press of lips, Dean's initially slight arousal grows and he starts tugging at the hem of Sam's shirt, hands wandering down to his back. His eyes snap back up to hazel ones when he suddenly speaks up and his smirk shifts into a frown at what he sees there. No. No way, he's not gonna---Dean gasps when the guy suddenly goes completely still on top of him, all his weight pressing on Dean and he groans quietly as he shoves him off, watching him roll to the side of the bed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He whisper-yells incredulously to himself and runs a hand through his face in exasperation. Jesus, that's what he gets for accepting the meager offer of a stoner. Looking around, Dean hesitates. He could stay the night. This is a much better place than the one he's going back to and Sam's completely passed out, so he doesn't have to worry about him doing something to Dean in his sleep. Sighing, he strips to his boxers and takes the other side of the bed.

* * *

Sam sleeps like a fucking baby. He wakes up feeling well-rested and content. Then he spots the guy in his bed. Oh. Shit. Right. Fuck. Sam scrubs his face, wincing when he rolls over and his jeans dig into his hip. God, what was he thinking? He's still feeling the high now, but he's pretty much sober. Jesus.

Sam undresses and pulls on a pair of soft sweatpants, glancing back at the beautiful, nearly-naked man in his bed. That he didn't fuck because he fell asleep on him. He's tempted to go out and get money, but he doesn't know when the guy will wake up and he doesn't...want him to go yet. Sam stumbles into the kitchen and throws a couple microwavable breakfast sandwiches in the microwave, rubbing his face. Fuck. He's never taking pot from Brady again.

When Dean wakes up, it takes him a minute to remember where he is. Soft, warm bed and not a rock-hard mattress...right. That stoned guy, Sam. Turning on his back, Dean yawns and stretches lazily, letting himself bask in the unfamiliar feeling of a soft bed underneath him before sitting up and reaching for his clothes. Once he's dressed, Dean makes sure to recount all of his money, it's more of a habit now and once he's sure it's all there, he walks out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Sam's already microwaving something. "Y'know, I think you beat a record last night. Not even five minutes in before you passed out on me."

Sam goes to make a face at him and he's struck again by how gorgeous Jason is. Wow. Just... He clears his throat and takes the sandwiches out of the microwave, putting them on plates and pushing one at Jason. “I was stoned,” he mutters defensively, peeking at the guy. Jesus. Sam settles into a chair and gestures for Jason to sit too. He stuffs his face to avoid talking, then reluctantly pipes up. “Uh, look, I'm not trying to 'Pretty Woman' you or anything, but you can shower, if you wanna. Eat something." Sam shrugs one shoulder. "Sorry, I've never...hired a hooker before. I can get you the money after we eat."

Dean can't help but laugh at the defensive tone as he takes the offered seat. "Yeah, I kinda got that. Your glassy eyes gave it away." Not to mention he's had enough experience with stoners and drugs in general, but Sam doesn't need to know that. He looks down at the plate pushed towards him and raises his eyebrows, looking back up at Sam when he starts talking. It's tempting. A nice hot shower, a warm meal...but still, Dean's trust issues weren't born out of friendly clients offering him that stuff. His stomach growling betrays his train of thought and he looks down at the sandwich before picking it up with an almost resigned sigh. "Thanks but I should probably go." He shifts on the chair and bites down on his sandwich.

Sam nods, digging into his own breakfast, his eyes darting occasionally back to Jason's face. He grew up being taught to be kind to everybody, and it's kind of a habit now. He's not like fashioning himself into a white knight or anything, and it's not like he has any obligation to Jason, but...still. “Hey, listen, let me get your number or something. So I can bring you the money I owe you. Promise I won’t spam you or anything." _That's_ what he was doing in that alley! Chasing down fucking Brady. God. He needs to get his phone back after this.

Dean finishes his sandwich quickly, practically wolfing the food down. It hadn't been a particularly good week and he hadn't eaten at all yesterday. Wiping his mouth sheepishly, Dean pushes the plate away once he's done and looks back up at Sam. "You want my number so you can give me the twenty-seven bucks you owe me?" He asks with an amused grin and shakes his head. "What are you even paying me for? There was no action last night on your part from what I remember. Now, me on the other side..." he trails off and snickers at Sam's expression. "Relax, I'm joking. I didn't violate you while you were sleeping. Prostitutes don't give anything away for free."

Sam wiggles a little uncomfortably. It all sounds so much dirtier dragged out into the light of morning. Especially now that he's sober. But Jason's magnetism hasn't dulled. Sam still wants him spread out over his bed. It's not like he can't get anybody else to sleep with him–he's not _resorting_ to a hooker–it's just that he wants Jason.

“Then...how can I get ahold of you again?” he asks a little shyly, eyes darting to Jason's mouth. He'll have to pick up some extra shifts at the library, but...it'll be worth it, he's certain.

Dean shrugs, catching the way Sam's eyes slip down to his mouth and smirking knowingly. Well, apparently last night wasn't just a side effect of weed and for some reason, Sam still wants him. Dean wonders if maybe he was wrong and despite his appearance, Sam really can't get anyone to sleep with him. Huh. Most likely not, so why the hell would he pay Dean for something he can get for free from anyone else?

"You know my alley. If you wanna try this again while sober, that's where I'll be." He stands up and stretches with a sigh, his top riding up and showing a sliver of skin. "But last night was me being generous. You're gonna have to make a better offer next time." Dean grins.

“I can get you two tabs of acid," Sam mutters, eyes on that patch of skin. He knows that move is on purpose. Everything Jason does is on purpose. The coy smile, the way he turns his head that makes his jaw look fucking edible–it's all practiced. Doesn't stop it from being hot as hell. He sighs and rubs his face, eyes darting back up to Jason's face. How long's it been since he's had sex? It’s never really been a top priority and with finals coming up, he's been high more often than not. Maybe he just wants Jason because he's easy. He's right here and all Sam needs to do is whip out his wallet. “Yeah, alright,” he says eventually, running a hand through his hair. “See you later."

"Tempting." He really shouldn't but god it's been too long and two little tabs of acid won't hurt, right? Dean grins and steps closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of long hair behind Sam's ear, fingertips skimming over his cheek as he pulls back. "Luckily for you, I have important clients today. If you decide to swing by any other day though...I'd like some cash too. A hooker's still gotta eat, babe." He leans in and brushes his lips over the other's, pulling away too soon and leaving him wanting more. "I'll see you later, Sam. Hopefully sober." Dean grins brightly and walks out.

Sam had been joking about the acid, but apparently Jason's into that. He can't help but fall for Jason's little tactics, tipping his head into the touch and chasing his lips. He watches his ass as he goes, sighing. Jesus.

* * *

Sam spends his morning working at the library, grumpily sober. He cracks in the last quarter and devours a brownie he's been saving, spending the rest of his shift smiling giddily at the silly portraits on 18th century biographies.

He goes out to a bar in the evening, picks up a girl without much issue, takes her home, and fucks her. So there. Sam spends the entire goddamn time thinking about Jason. He's gotta meet him again.

Dean spends his afternoon at Meg's. Her place is rundown and filthy, not to mention crawling with junkies everywhere he turns and you'd think a supposed recovering addict like himself should try and stay away but he's still got shit to pay her for (no, not drugs) and since the whole Alistair deal blew up in his face, he doesn't really have a solid place to stay in.

By the time he leaves with a half-hearted wave in tight jeans and a rainbowed striped, flamboyant top, Dean's ready for Brad, his first client of the night; a closeted teenager who always pays for blowjobs. He can't help but think about Sam once he moves on to Randy and even as he's being fucked into the soft mattress of the five star hotel they meet in, Dean can't get him out of his head. Fucking hazel, glassy eyes.

* * *

Sam sleeps well (always does when he's stoned). He gets up early to get a big wad of cash out of the ATM and to meet his dealer. He buys a sheet of acid off him and a couple more grams and shoves them in his pocket. “Hey, d'you by any chance know a guy named Jason?” His dealer gives him a blank stare. Jason's probably a fake name. Sam swears. “About yay high, dirty blonde, green eyes, girl's mouth, great ass?”

  
His dealer barks a laugh. “Yeah, I know the guy. Hangs out at Meg's. Big old Colonial house just past that toy store that burned down.”

  
Sam nods his thanks and sets off, hands in his pockets, head down. The neighborhood is shitty, and it's obvious to Sam that the place is a crack house. He's been in enough himself. He knocks, curves in his shoulders to seem less threatening.

Dean goes back with Meg the next day and god, he's gotta buy himself an apartment. He's been saving money for that but it's still not enough; he had to start from zero after...Dean shakes his head to himself. Don't bring it up. Someone knocks on the door and Dean turns to look at Meg expectantly, only to find her shooting up. Rolling his eyes, he stands up from the couch and goes to open the door. She doesn't usually mess with the merchandise but no one's supposed to come anymore today.

Dean's exasperated expression completely shifts into a surprised one though when he finds Sam on the other side of the door. It takes him a second to recover, a grin tugging at his lips once he does. "Thought we'd meet at the alley, handsome. How'd you find me here anyway?"

Even though he was looking for him, it surprises Sam to see Jason at the door. He peeks inside, past him. There are bodies sprawled over the couches and mattresses on the floor. It reeks like B.O. and burning metal. Sam makes a face.

“I asked around," he says quietly, eyes darting back to Jason's face. “Nice place," he adds, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He peels some cash and the acid out of his pocket, hesitating before he hands them over. “Look, I know I'm probably way off base here, but...you're not recovering, right? ’Cause I'm not giving you LSD if you're trying to get off something."

"Thanks for that really sincere comment, Sam." Dean huffs, stepping out and closing the door behind him. The junkies inside might be an embarrassing group that Sam's definitely judging right now but it's still not a peep show; Dean was in that exact same position not too long ago. "But it's not my place, I just hang out here." He reaches out with a grin when Sam hands the cash and acid over, pausing at the words. Licking his lips, Dean avoids the other's stare and shrugs. "Don't worry, I'm using it after you fuck me, not during."

Sam's mouth tightens. He's one to talk. He's tried every drug under the sun. But he knows a distress signal when he sees one, even if Jason doesn't. There's a bruise peeking from under Jason's shirt and Sam wonders if that's a hazard of the job. “That money's for the other night. Take the acid with a friend,” he advised sternly. “Strong shit.” He hesitates for a minute on the steps, fingering the rest of the money in his pocket. “And come by my place tonight,” he adds with a firm nod, blood rushing at issuing the order. He's not usually like this.

Dean stops counting the money at Sam's words, frowning slightly and shaking his head. "Look, man. I told you, you don't need to pay me for the other night. We didn't do anything." He's about to hand the money back when Sam's words come out and make him pause hesitantly, licking his lips and grinning. "On the other hand...I'll take this as payment for tonight." Dean looks down at the acid then and chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, his eyes catching Sam's when he looks back up and tugging his shirt down to cover his freshest bruise. "I'll see you tonight, then." He pockets the acid and rolls his eyes when Meg starts shouting at him to close the goddamn door and get his ass back inside.

Sam opens and closes his mouth, then nods shortly. He can't make Jason accept his help. And he's not gonna try and make an honest man out of a hooker. The guy's not a charity case. Sam runs a hand through his hair, staring at him for a minute longer before mumbling a goodbye and spinning. He pauses halfway through turning around. “What's your real name?”

Dean's about to shut the door when Sam turns around. He cocks a brow at the unexpected question; he's sure at least 80% of his clients know he's giving out a fake name but no one's ever bothered asking his real one, he can't tell whether Sam asking makes him feel wary or surprised. "Thought you were new at this. Why'd you think I gave you a fake name?" Dean bats his long eyelashes innocently, though the facade breaks at Sam's stare and he snickers, not saying anything for a moment and just when it seems Sam's given up and turns around, Dean decides what the hell, he probably won't see the guy again after they fuck tonight. "Dean. My real name's Dean."

“Dean,” Sam repeats. He nods and sets off, not looking back.

The acid in his pocket feels heavy. Like it's weighing him down and why the fuck did he accept it. It's been too long. It could be way too easy; just let himself forget and go with it but the sudden memories slamming into his head make him think twice, make him remember his time with Alistair and how numb he'd felt back then, pumped full of drugs. Dean ends up selling it to Meg who's a little low on the stuff and walks out of her place feeling lighter than before. The craving's still there, oh the ache is the worst, too but at least he's still clean

Sam considers getting high when he gets home, but for once, he doesn't feel like it. Instead, he goes grocery shopping and picks up everything he needs to make some chicken and rice. Not the most inventive, but it's been a while since he's had a home cooked meal, and he bets it has been for Dean too. He decides to wait until Dean arrives to start cooking since it won't be that long, and busies himself baking some pot brownies instead.

Sighing a little shakily, Dean runs a hand through his spiky hair and stops just shy of Sam's doorstep, taking a deep breath and putting on his best flirty, cocky grin before knocking on the door. 

“It's open!” Sam shouts, listening to the door open and close. He's just pulling the last batch out of the oven, abruptly realizing that he’s gonna be making dinner for a hooker. Probably not protocol. He'll just play it off. “Hey, sorry. I had to make these. I haven't had dinner yet. I can make some for you too.”

Dean closes the door behind him gently and follows Sam's voice into the kitchen, taking in the brownies and food Sam's cooking. "Are those weed brownies?" He asks amused, grinning at Sam and stepping closer to inspect the brownies, though he fidgets uncomfortably at the offer. It's honestly the first time a client's taken him off guard like that, it's also the first time a client offers to make him...dinner. Licking his lips, Dean shrugs and tries to play it cool. "Sure. I haven't had dinner either." 

“Mhmm. Big party at one of the frat houses tomorrow night. Trying to make back the money I spent on you.” San winks to let Dean know he's teasing. He gets on the chicken and rice quickly, not wanting to make this anymore awkward than he can feel it becoming. “So...” Sam stops himself and snorts a laugh. “Not to, uh, sound like I'm tryna court your or anything, but, what're you into? What do you do in your free time?” Sam keeps his eyes down on the pan, nervous.

"Are you sure this isn't Pretty Woman?" Dean can tell Sam's nervous though and really he doesn't know why, he's just a hooker, it's not like Sam has to make a good impression or make small talk, he just wants Dean there for sex. He figures small albeit awkward talk is better than silence though so he answers with a hum. "I don't have much to entertain myself with, so I mostly just hang at Meg's place." Dean licks his lips and looks down, hesitating before admitting in a hopefully casual voice. "I draw sometimes. When I have time anyway."

Sam snorts. “I wish I had as much money as Richard Gere in Pretty Woman." He finishes cooking and distributes the food between two plates, setting one in front of Dean and offering him a beer. His eyes light up when Dean finally starts to open up. “Yeah? What do you like to draw?"

Dean can't help the way he almost salivates right there when Sam places the food in front of him. God, so long since he's had a home-cooked meal like that. He has to take a bite of the chicken before answering and closes his eyes in bliss, moaning at the taste, not realizing the sound he's made until his eyes open to land on Sam's face. "Sorry. Just haven't eaten like this in a while." Dean feels slightly more at ease as he eats, swallowing down before speaking up. "People, mostly. Anything I find worth drawing. Or anyone."

Sam smirks a little at Dean's response to the food. He's no Iron Chef, and that thought kind of depresses him: the fact that Dean is enjoying his mediocre cooking so much just shows how shitty Dean's meals usually are. He clears his throat and refocuses on what Dean's saying, nodding. "Like strangers? I had a classmate once who used to do these beautiful portraits of other classmates while they weren't looking. Something like that?"

Dean nods, pausing in his eating to take a sip from his beer. "Strangers. The other hookers that share the alley. Orgies." He smirks at that last one and looks back up at Sam. "Never participated myself but it happens sometimes at Meg's. I usually sit back and watch." It's weird how outside of his work, he really holds no social life whatsoever. It's not like he could make a relationship work with his...profession and sex with strangers is basically what he does for a living, not something he specifically enjoys.

Sam doesn't say anything for a bit. Dean's life seems to be tethered to prostitution. And he didn't know what he expected. People don't start selling their bodies for shits and giggles. "How'd you start?" Sam asks before he can stop himself. "Being a hooker." Sam's cheeks pinken a moment later and he ducks his head. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

Dean pauses mid-chew, slowly putting his fork down and locking eyes with Sam when the other looks back up. He bites on the inside of his cheek and exhales deeply, covering it up with his beer as he takes a sip. "So, what about you?" He changes the subject, fighting against the memories of his life before threatening to take over. "What are you into besides getting high and bringing hookers back home?"

Sam winces internally at Dean's reaction to his question. It can't be a pretty story. He latches into the change in subject. "I'm just finishing up pre-law," he says quickly, then smiled dryly at the obvious irony. "I can tell you exactly how much jail time we would get if we were caught, say, mid-coitus with a wad of cash in one hand and a blunt in the other." He scrapes the last few scraps off his plate, sighing. He should try to get clean. But getting high is so fun. 

"Really? A lawyer?" Dean chuckles and it seems like his first genuine laugh in forever, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He shakes his head slowly, savoring the last piece of food before setting his fork down for good. "Well, you ain't the first one I've had. You are, however, the first one to get high." Dean pushes his plate away and he looks up with a smile, not a grin or a smirk. He can't remember the last time he's spent time with someone like this. It all comes back to him though and his smile is soon covered up with a flirty smirk. "So, now that you've properly dined and wined me...what d'you say we take this to the bedroom?"

Sam can see the exact moment Dean puts his face back on and his own mouth twitches into a small frown for a second. He likes that genuine laughter. Dean looked really good like that. He looked younger, less tired. Sam arranges his mouth back into a smile, standing and stretching with a groan, taking his time putting their plates in the sink. He stalling and he's not sure why. He paid for this. "I just ate, man. Wanna watch a movie first?" he says innocently. He's sure 'movie' will dissolve to making out on the couch, but still.

Dean takes full advantage of the time Sam spends with his back turned to him, putting the plates in the sink and gets his shit together. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why is there a pang in his chest at the reminder of what this is? This is just a client that paid him for sex, nothing else. He's come to terms with his job and the shitty life he leads at the moment, yet there are times when he's struck once again by how tired he is of it, how lonely and hurt. Alistair just made it all worse the second he stepped into his life. His smirk falters slightly at the words. "A movie?" Really, what is Sam doing now? "Uh...sure, I guess?"

"Great. I haven't seen Top Gun in a while. Good with you?" An impulse hits him and he spins and scoops Dean up before he can answer, sitting him on the kitchen counter and kissing him, nudging himself between the man's knees.

Before he can even answer or maybe gape in confusion because, does Sam not understand the purpose of a hooker? Before either of those things can happen, Dean's being picked up and set down on the kitchen counter as Sam kisses him, hard and deep and now Dean's just more confused than before.

It's painfully romantic and Dean tastes like Jessica for a moment. But Sam shakes himself out of that, hands gripping Dean's trim waist and kissing him hard. When he pulls away, he smiles pleasantly like nothing happened, hands on Dean's thighs. "Top Gun?"

They pull back and Dean knows his eyes are wide and he's definitely gaping in surprise now. "I...uh, yeah. Yeah, fine by me." He licks his lips, staring into Sam's eyes for a bit longer. Maybe he could draw them, add some color to bring the hazel to life.

Sam grins at Dean's gape. That's what he wanted. Just a little emotion. Anything other than that stupid hooker smirk.

He pulls Dean around his waist and carries him to the small TV area, plopping on the couch and letting his hand slide down to map the curve of his ass as he navigates Netflix with the remote in the other hand. "Where is it... I had it queued and everything," Sam mutters, giving Dean's ass a couple thoughtful squeezes. It's just as good as it looks.

Jesus, Sam's strong. His arms hook around his neck instinctively as he's carried away once more, his hands sliding up to his hair and when the other starts squeezing his ass, he really can't wait anymore. Dean leans forward and kisses him hard, fingers tangling in that stupid long hair that would look ridiculous in anyone else and somehow looks hot on Sam. Fuck, forget being lonely and not being able to form relationships, maybe just one night with Sam can be what he needs. One night of actually enjoying sex.

Sam's surprised by the crash of Dean's mouth, but he's not arguing. He drops the remote and slides his other hand to grip at Dean's ass. He wonders if Dean's eagerness is just eagerness to get done and get out the door, but it doesn't feel like that. Either Dean is really fucking good or he actually kinda wants to fuck Sam. Which makes him feel a little better about all this. Sam gives his hips a little bump up, his dick chubbing up in his jeans at the feeling of Dean's mouth and the give of his ass.

Dean's hips roll down slowly, sensually and he grins into the kiss when he feels Sam's boner. He tugs slightly on his hair, Dean's tongue flicking out to run over Sam's lower lip, coaxing his lips to part and let him in. "Forget the movie." He whispers heatedly between kisses, hands sliding down to the collar of his shirt and tugging at the fabric. "Just take what you paid for, Sam." The words are an encouragement as much as they are a reminder. This is why he wants Dean; not for dinner or to watch movies together.

Sam's lost in the tidal wave that is Dean's hands, tugging, grabbing, squeezing. He groans quietly when Dean's tongue slips into his mouth, giving his ass a good squeeze. The words, though, make him freeze. 'Take what you paid for.' He hates that phrasing, hates the assumption.

Sam hauls Dean off his lap and onto the couch next to him, blank-faced. "You got somewhere else to be? No? I paid for your time. If I wanna spend it watching shitty Tom Cruise movies, we're gonna fuckin' watch shitty Tom Cruise movies." It comes out way harsher than Sam means, so he huffs and flings an arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him tight against his side, obstinately ignoring his own erection.

Dean's already starting to tug Sam's shirt up, so he's definitely taken back when he's suddenly hauled off Sam's lap and placed on the couch. He blinks dumbly for a second at the little outburst and he huffs incredulously. Seriously?

"Actually, you paid for my body. I sell sex, in case the term hooker didn't give it away." Dean pulls away from the arm that wraps around him then and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's already having a crappy day, he doesn't need this confusing shit from one of his clients.

Sam sighs roughly, scrubbing his face. Dean's right. Sam's fucking pathetic. "Fine. Fine. Then we do it the way I wanna do it. And I wanna slow the fuck down and treat you like a human being, alright? Let me fucking do this my way." His hand are itching for a joint to relax himself. This wasn't how he saw this turning out. He twists to face Dean, brows up, then reaches for him, cupping his face and kissing him lightly, slowly, easily. No rush. They've got all night, right?

Oh, god. He never should've come here with this goddamn guy who thinks he's some white knight that's gonna swoop in and take Dean away from his life of hooking. He could really use a cigarette right now. Dean sighs when Sam turns to face him, frowning slightly as the other cups his face gently. The kiss that follows is light and soft and almost, almost tender and Dean's so overwhelmed at the unfamiliar motions. It's always been rough and hard, always bruising and biting. He's not proud of the way he practically melts into it but fuck, no one's ever kissed him like that before.

Sam smirks when Dean slumps towards him like that, makes a little noise into his mouth. Good. He doesn't have any illusions (consciously). He just wants to treat Dean like anybody else. Not like a cheap fuck. He gathers Dean against his chest, petting his hair and fingering the sharp line of his jaw. Beautiful. His hand trail over Dean's back, to his hips, to his thighs, feeling the lines and shapes of him. They settle on his back, fingers moving back and forth between his vertebrae.

Dean's arms slowly come up to wrap around Sam's neck once more, fingertips absently stroking over the soft skin. He tenses for a fraction of a second when Sam's hands go to his back before shivering at the touch. Ever since...'it' happened, Dean can't help but tense for a second every time someone touches his back, though it's definitely better than the time he screamed and punched one of his clients. Sam's keeping the kiss slow and soft and while Dean doesn't rush it this time, he tries to slip his tongue into the other's mouth again, gently licking over his lower lip.

Sam catches the way Dean tenses when he touches his back. He's been with enough fucked-up people to know the signs. He slides his hands back down to Dean's hips, humming into his mouth and accepting Dean's tongue. He meets it with his own, teasing and playful. Dean's more draped against his side than he is on top of him, and that's fine. It's comfortable. Sam bites gently on Dean's bottom lip and gives it a little tug before licking it in apology. His hands wander over Dean's string thighs again. He really likes Dean's dumb bowed legs.

Dean relaxes against Sam when his hands trail down to his hips instead and he lets his own hands trail back up to his hair. He never thought he'd be into guys with long hair. Dean hisses slightly into the kiss at the bite but the tongue sweeping over the tender flesh more than makes up for it.

Pulling back from the kiss after a while of their tongues tangling together and teeth grazing over lower lips, Dean's forehead comes to rest against Sam's and he just watches him for a second before a real smile tugs at him. "Taking it slow's not so bad, I guess." He murmurs, fingering Sam's hair and letting his nails scrape against his scalp gently.

"Mmm," Sam agrees, stuck in Dean's hyper-green eyes. "Feels nice," he adds in a murmur when Dean starts massaging his scalp, eyes at half-mast. He pulls the man into his lap gently, ducking to kiss over his neck. Those cute freckles continue lightly on the skin there and disappear under his shirt. Sam slides his hands under Dean's shirt at his hips, just to feel his bare skin as his lips ghost over his throat, pausing occasionally to press kisses. Body like this deserves to be worshipped.

Dean keeps up with his motions, gently massaging Sam's scalp even as the other pulls him into his lap. His eyes flutter shut when soft kisses are pressed to his neck and throat, Dean's head tilting to bare more skin for the other. God, it's so gentle and loving and Dean didn't know it could feel like this. He doesn't want to rush it but he wants more of this feeling. Right now Sam's making him feel like he's worth more than the cheap whore he is. Maybe he could...just pretend? Pretend for one night that his life is different, that Sam's a guy he's been seeing and this is just consensual sex and not his job. Dean takes a chance and starts tugging slowly at Sam's shirt again, silently asking him to take it off.

Sam starts to unbutton his shirt, leaving it half undone so Dean can do the rest. He shifts so Dean can push it off his shoulders, squeezing the man against himself and kissing him a little more firmly, a little more passionately. His hips give a little roll upwards. Nothing that demands action from Dean, nothing too dirty, just to feel Dean's weight on his lap. He relaxes after a moment, smoothing his hands down Dean's thighs and back up, grinning against his mouth. "Those freckles keep going?" he asks, tugging at the hem of Dean's shirt.

Dean pushes Sam's shirt off his shoulders, pulling back for just a second to admire the other's toned chest and muscled arms. After that soft, slow kiss, Dean doesn't expect the passionate one and he can't help but let out a little moan into his mouth, hips rolling back down almost on instinct now. His hands trail down to Sam's shoulders, down to his forearms until they get to his chest. Pulling back from the kiss, slightly flushed now, which makes said freckles stand out even more, Dean licks his lips. "Why don't you take it off and find out?"

Sam liked the weight of Dean's hands in his chest. Liked the way he looked flush, legs spread around Sam's hips, perched on his lap like an image of sin and infatuation. Makes him feel like Dean is his. But he's not. Sam's chest squeezes for a moment and he nods jerkily to Dean's sexy little response. He tugs that rainbow atrocity off and chucks it on the floor, subtly kicking it under his couch. Dean doesn't need it back. It's ugly as hell. He's quickly distracted by Dean's chest, though. He's fit, not scrawny, and the flush goes all the way down to his collar bones, making the freckles pop like stars in the night sky. Sam places a hand high on Dean's back, slowly, watching his face to make sure it doesn't upset him, and leans him backwards so Sam's mouth can map the galaxies of freckles peppering his chest.

Dean can't help the sigh of relief that escapes his lips when Sam takes off his top. God, he hates that one and it's uncomfortable as hell but clients usually like it. His face twists for just a second when Sam touches his back again; he's sure that now that he took the top off, Sam can feel the various scars Alistair left. Most clients aren't bothered by it, but every now and then, he'll find someone that finds his scars to be a turn-off. Dean makes himself relax as Sam tips him backwards, his hands finding purchase on the other's shoulders, his breathing getting heavier as Sam kisses down his body.

Dean's skin is taut and bumped where Sam's finger touch his back. They're obviously scars, but it's not Sam's place to say anything. He's got track marks up and down his arm from needles, but it's one of those things you don't mention. He loses himself in Dean's body, his mouth latching on to a dusky nipple and sucking. Dean's reaction is fantastic, so Sam teases the other one with his fingers, teeth and tongue working over the hardened bud.

Dean's grateful when Sam doesn't ask or shows disgust towards his scars and he finds himself liking the guy a little bit more. He'd probably ask him out if things were different and Dean wasn't some cheap hooker. His thoughts half to an abrupt stop when he feels Sam's mouth close around his nipple, a choked moan falling from his lips and his grip on his shoulder tightening, feeling his dick harden in his tight pants

Sam chuckles, the sound growly with arousal, at Dean's reaction. So he likes having his nipples played with? San pulls back, flicking his tongue over the nub before switching to the other nipples, fingers working the neglected on. He loves the way Dean shudders under his assault. Makes him look fucking edible, the way his face flushes.

"Fuck." Dean breathes, his hips rolling down to get some kind of friction, the motions aren't as slow or sensual as they were but rather slightly needy. God, he's always been in control of himself, but Sam's slowly making him lose it and it's honestly scary as fuck. His nipples had always been really sensitive and the whimpers and moans falling from his mouth are proof enough. Dean's nails dig into Sam's skin, scratching down to his arms.

Dean's falling apart under his mouth and Sam fucking loves it. Besides the obvious confidence-booster of making a professional moan like that, he likes seeing Dean enjoying himself. It's sexy and it's carefree and real. Sam's snapped out of his daze when Dean's nails catch on one of his track marks and he hisses, flinching back. Fuck, that hurt. He's not bleeding, though, so he mumbled a quick, “It's fine,” against Dean's mouth as he kisses him to save the moment.

Dean pulls his hands back at the hiss and his eyes take in the track marks. "Shit, m'sorry." His apology is cut off by Sam's lips crashing against his, eyes fluttering close slowly at the reassurance. Dean's hands trail back up gently to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their chests are pressing together. "Take them off." He whispers into the kiss, hips rolling back down slowly. "C'mon, I'm not rushing you. Just...want more."

Sam slides his hands down to cup Dean's ass, giving it a hard squeeze as he stands, holding Dean around his waist. He stumbles to his bedroom, tossing Dean down on his bed and giving him a toothy grin before falling over him. His mouth settles between Dean's pecs, kissing down and around his chest. He follows invisible lines between freckles, tracing one Texas-shaped cluster. He stops to suck and lick occasionally, taking his time following the lines of Dean's beautiful body. He keeps one hand inside Dean's jeans, rubbing at his cock, to keep him interested.

Dean's hips buck up, chest heaving as Sam kisses down and around his chest. "C'mon, help me take 'em off." He gestures to his tight jeans, his hands tangling and tugging on Sam's hair. Fucking jeans have been killing him all day, but they bring out his ass and leave nothing to the imagination. He's not really sure where they go from here, if Sam's still gonna fuck him like he'd said he would the first night or if he's gonna end up coming before they get to that part.

Sam complies, unbuttoning Dean's jeans and peeling them off his body. He's fucking gorgeous. It's never gonna stop hitting Sam how amazing Dean is. His cock his making a tent out of his briefs and Sam's just about out of patience. He tugs those down too. Dean's cock looks delicious, and Sam can't help but duck to take a mouthful, moaning at the taste of precome. It takes Sam that long to notice Dean's shaved, and that's fucking sexy. The skin is all bare and soft and dusky.

"A-ah!" Dean cries out at the sudden warmth of Sam's mouth around the head of his cock. It seems like all he's done so far is take whatever Sam wants to give and god, no one's ever cared so much about Dean's pleasure. Except for when they're fucking him. Guys love to hear how much he loves taking their cocks.

Before Sam can decide to, he's hauling Dean's hips up and sitting up himself, pulling the man's lower half with him so Dean's hole is by his mouth, legs thrown over his shoulders, and Dean's almost upside down. Sam shoots him a grin before he buries his face in his ass, tongue licking at his hole. Fuck. Amazing. 

Dean’s hands shot out to grip the sheets for support as he's hauled off and he raises his head to lock eyes with Sam before he's throwing his head back with a loud, shameless moan as Sam starts licking his hole.

Sam shivers at the noises Dean's making, wrapping his arms tight around Dean's middle to keep him up. He's messy about it, dragging his tongue from Dean's hole, over his perineum and balls, to the base of his cock. He really does taste good. Sam sucks noisily on his rim, satisfied with the filthy noises. God, Dean's body. Sam pauses to give his ass a slap, awkward at the angle but it's worth it to see the bloom of red. He's back to shoving his tongue into Dean's hole in moments.

He really doesn't get many rimjobs or even blowjobs, although those ones are more common but fuck, this is the best rimjob of his goddamn life and the sloppiness and messiness only makes it hotter. "Oh, f-fuck..." His voice trembles on the last word, body shivering finely the more Sam works his tongue in, the muscles on his legs straining where they're thrown over his shoulders. "Y-you keep this up--" he's cut off by his own groan, "-m'gonna come before you fuck me."

Sam grins against his hole. Dean can't even form full sentences and fuck if that isn't hot as hell. “We got all night, baby," he murmurs, his mouth gravitating back towards Dean's cock. He takes it down, working a couple fingers into Dean's tight hole and searching for his prostate. He chuckles around his mouthful when Dean jerks. Found it. Sam relaxes into a rhythm, rubbing and pushing against Dean's prostate and sucking his cock, spit sliding out from the corners of his mouth.

Dean's whole body jerks when Sam's finger brushes against his prostate, an honest to god keen falling from his lips when the other keeps his motions up instead of pulling back, grazing his prostate mercilessly as he sucks his cock. Dean's a sweaty, whimpering mess by the time he finally begs for more. "Please." He rasps out. He's begged so many times before and only now he really means it. "Please fuck me."

Sam looks down, meeting Dean's eyes. He sounds so...vulnerable. Not at all like a whore. He sounds like some guy Sam took home who's having the time of his life. Sam lets Dean's cock slip out of his mouth, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “Lemme stretch you, baby,” Sam murmurs, letting Dean's body settle flat on the mattress. He sucks on Dean's hip as he stretches him gently, slipping a couple more fingers into him. He loves the way Dean's skin trembles under him.

Once he's sure Dean is stretched enough, he sits up, bracing his hands on his knees and just looking at Dean. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, grinning a little. He rummages through a drawer for a condom, his free hand running over Dean's chest like he can't pull away.

Dean can't remember the last time he enjoyed it, that he really wanted to be fucked by one of his clients and wasn't just begging for show. He doesn't want it to end and go back to being a whore. Trembling as Sam stretches him, his head tossing from side to side with a drawn out moan every time Sam taps his prostate, he spreads his legs wider apart and reaches down to rest his hand on top of Sam's, his eyes hazy as they look into the other's.

It's crazy how relaxed and content Dean looks. It's like he's forgotten he's a hooker. 'Or he's a really good one,' a nasty part of Sam's mind mutters. He shakes that away, shucking off the rest of his clothes, rolling the condom on, and settling between Dean's legs. He pulls them around himself, hitching Dean's hips up, just enjoying the slide of his cock between Dean's cheeks for a minute.

Dean looks down just to see Sam roll on the condom and holy shit. "Knew you were proportionate." He breathes, managing a breathy chuckle at Sam's expression

Then Sam lines himself up, checking Dean's face to make sure he's okay, and pushes in slowly. Sam's eyes flutter, a deep groan pushing up from his diaphragm. Jeeeezus. Dean's a fucking glove, and he's so warm, so sexy. Sam bears down on him, pushes forward until he's in to the root, hunched over Dean, his hands by the man's ears, his head hanging. Sam looks up into Dean's eyes and manages a little huff of a grin, swooping down to kiss him.

Dean wraps his arms around the other's back, biting down on his lower lip, his hole clenching against cool air and he's so close to begging again but then Sam's pushing in and oh god, he's big. So fucking big. His grunt shifts into a mix between a moan and a whimper once he's all the way in, his eyes half lidded and glassy with lust. Kissing back eagerly, Dean scratches slightly down his back and pushes his hips down. "Fuck me." He whispers hotly into the kiss.

Sam makes Dean wait another couple moments, enjoying the kiss and tangling his fingers in Dean's short hair. He tugs his head back, mouth assaulting his throat as he starts deep, patient thrusts, grinding against Dean's prostate. It's taking all his self-control not to just fucking pound him into the mattress, but he wants this to be good for Dean too. Maybe he can make Dean come a couple times. He wants to see Dean's face as he shudders through an orgasm.

The slow, deep pace Sam's setting up is agony and the way he brushes over his prostate with every thrust is torture. It seems Sam's an expert at pulling all kind of vulnerable, embarrassing sounds from Dean. His hands go back to tangle into his long hair, pulling and guiding his head down for another kiss. It's clumsy at first, teeth clashing and tongues curling but he soon settles into it with a breathy moan of his name swallowed by Sam's mouth.

Sam loves how Dean kisses him. It's so raw and needy, so fucking desperate with just a tinge of slutty, the way their teeth and tongues collide. He starts thrusting a little harder, missing Dean's prostate on purpose every couple thrusts. “I wanna see you come, Dean. C'mon. Let go. I'll make you come again. Let me see," he murmurs, voice growly and rough with arousal. Sam's not certain he's not gonna lose it himself when Dean comes. If he does, he can get it back up pretty fast. He just wants to make Dean feel as good as he can.

God and he's gonna come first, too? Dean should be able to hold it back but with every thrust and word murmured between their sweaty bodies, he's closer to the edge. His dick's leaking and twitching between them and he doesn't think he's even gonna have to touch himself to get there. Tugging harsher on Sam's hair, Dean shifts to get a better angle where Sam's cock's nailing his prostate repeatedly. He throws his head back on the pillow, pink, swollen lips parted in a choking cry as he comes, shuddering through his orgasm.

Sam can feel Dean's hole twitching around him as his body rackets closer to orgasm. Then Dean comes and it's the most beautiful thing Sam's ever seen. He pulls himself almost all the way out of Dean, gripping the base of his cock like a vice. Fuck. Dean's incredible, arching, head thrown back like that, all flushed and panting, his stomach streaked white. When he's certain he's not gonna blow, Sam eases himself back into Dean, huffing. “Fuck. You're so fucking hot,” he mutters, swiping a couple fingers through the mess on his belly and pushing them against Dean's mouth. He doesn't start fucking him again yet, giving him a moment to recover.

Chest heaving, Dean's eyes blink open slowly when he feels the tip of Sam's fingers nudging against his mouth and his pink tongue slides out to lick them clean, looking into Sam's eyes with hazy green ones. He whines around the digits when Sam's cock slides inside again, his thighs trembling as he lets them fall from his mouth. It takes him more time than he'd like to admit to recover, managing a small grin when he looks up at Sam. "Round two already? You gonna come too, this time?"

Sam stares as Dean's lips wrap around his fingers groaning quietly. He smiles back, pecking his mouth. "Yeah, I'm gonna come inside this tight little ass," he murmurs, smirking. He makes sure Dean is up to it before he pulls out of him, give his hip a little push. "Roll over for me, baby. I wanna see your little hole when I come in you."

Dean bites down on his lip and rolls over when Sam tells him too, turning his head to grin at Sam. "Don't keep me waiting." He reaches around himself to spread his ass for Sam. God, this is the best sex he's ever had. There were no corny porn lines, there was actual foreplay and Sam even cared about Dean's pleasure as well. He doesn't feel used this time. Like he's just a hole to fuck for money.

Sam sucks in a breath looking down at Dean's hole offered so willingly. It's a little puffy and red from Sam's cock and Sam can't wait to get himself back in there. He sinks in harder this time, starting up a quick rhythm, blanketing Dean's body with his own as he whispers in his ear. "I'm gonna pound you, Dean. Gonna make you scream my name. 'Cause it's my turn to take what I want and I wanna fuck you hoarse."

Gripping the sheets tightly, Dean twists the fabric in his hands as Sam starts a quick, hard rhythm right away. Whining into the pillow, his body rocks forward into the bed with each thrust, his soft cock twitching back to life when the tip of Sam's dick brushes his prostate.

'It's my turn to take what I want'. Those words snap him out of it though, out of the nice fantasy he was in, where he wasn't a hooker and Sam was just some guy that had maybe asked him out. Shutting his eyes tightly, Dean exhales shakily and lets his body give into the pleasure instead, moaning and crying out with every thrust.

Sam can't focus on anything other than how good Dean feels around him and for a moment he doesn't notice it. But it's impossible to ignore once he does. Dean's vulnerability is gone. His moans don't sound fake, but they're not careless and free anymore. Sam stops, concern painted on his face. He touches Dean's shoulder gently, trying to see his face. "Hey, are you–are you okay? I'm not hurting you, am I? It's okay if you don't wanna go again, I'll be fine." Sam pulls out and gently nudges Dean on to his back again so he can meet his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Dean's hole is left clenching around cool air when Sam suddenly pulls out. He frowns in confusion and looks up once he's turned on his back. There's a tightness in his chest, making his breath catch when he finds Sam's concerned gaze, like he actually cares. Chewing on his lower lip, he looks down and sees that Sam's still hard and he nods, cupping the other's face and pulling him in for a kiss. He just wants to be done. "M'fine. C'mon, baby. Keep fucking me."

God, it feels so forced. Sam's starting to go soft as a result. He's not sure what he fucked up, but he fucked up. Dean's all withdrawn again. Instead of fucking him like Dean asked, Sam pushes him gently against the headboard, kissing him softly and deeply and wrapping a hand around Dean's cock, coaxing it back to life. He just wants Dean to enjoy himself. Sam can't get off if Dean can't.

Backed against the headboard, Dean's not really expecting the soft, deep kiss. Jesus, this isn't fair. It feels like a fucking rollercoaster being with Sam, his emotions (which he's usually good at shutting down) are all over the place. A surprised moan falls from his lips when Sam's hand wraps around him and he bucks up into the touch. "Sam...c'mon." He pants into the kiss, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I want you to...it's your turn."

Sam's about to argue and say it's not about turns, then remembers what he just said. His face falls into something between exasperation and amusement. "I didn't mean... That was just dirty talk, Dean. I was just tryna rile you up. Wrong thing to say, I guess." He darts in to kiss him again, quickly, and pulls back, expression earnest. "Dean, I'd be satisfied if we stopped right now. You're beautiful and you're amazing to be with and you've made me feel amazing. I just wanna make sure you're enjoying yourself too. Sex is no fun if we're not both into it. I wanna make it good for you," he finishes with a lame shrug, scrubbing the back of his head. Great. Pouring it all out to a hooker. Great, Wesson. Well done.

Dean just stares at Sam for a minute and boy if he isn't going soft now, Sam's hand still awkwardly wrapped around him. Jesus, this guy makes it so confusing for him. Here he just told Dean that he thinks he's beautiful and amazing and wants him to enjoy himself. "You're so fucking confusing." He shakes his head and reaches out to wrap a hand around Sam's dick. Dean's body loses some of its tension and he shuts Sam up with a kiss before he can protest or tell him to stop. "Not sure you'd appreciate blue balls."

Sam's not sure what to say next, so he's glad Dean starts moving. He kisses him firmly, matching rhythm with Dean as he strokes him. When they're both hard again, he pulls Dean into his lap, giving him a little grin. "Wanna ride me?" he asks, giving Dean's ass a squeeze. He hasn't really given Dean the chance to be in control. Maybe that's what he needs.

Dean thinks about it for a second but ends up shaking his head. "No. Pound me into the mattress like you were going to." He pushes at Sam a little so he can roll over again, turning his head to look at him when it seems like the other's hesitating. "C'mon. I want it." Dean admits, reaching back to spread himself again for Sam.

Sam hesitates, but there's no point pushing it now. All he can do is make it good for Dean. He ducks down to give Dean's hole a couple licks until he's shaking again, then pushes in in a quick thrust. Sam groans quietly, gripping Dean's hip. Fuck. What a fantastic ass. Sam gives it a solid slap, leaning down, his lips brushing over the back of Dean's neck as he starts fucking into him hard. He growls quietly, tugging on Dean's hair and pulling his head back. "Feel good, babe?" he growls, aiming for Dean's prostate.

Dean lets out a thin moan at the first wet touch of Sam's tongue on his hole, his hands eventually falling to grip at the sheets once again. He's shaking by the time Sam slides in again and he yelps at the slap, not really having time to adjust as Sam starts fucking into him hard but that's okay. Body rocking forward with each thrust, Dean whimpers when Sam tugs on his hair. "Y-yeah. Fuck, m'close." His dick's leaking where it's trapped against the bed and he practically sobs as he tries to get more friction as Sam nails his prostate.

Sam's close too, but what kind of gentleman comes before his lady? He settles more upright and hauls Dean backward so he's almost on his lap, but Sam's got more leverage. He wraps one arm around Dean's middle, the other gripping his shoulder as he shoves him down on his cock, hips pistoning up at the same time. The heat is building in his gut, but he can wait. His hand slides down to wrap around Dean's cock and tug it in time with his hard, fast thrusts.

Easily going backwards into Sam's lap, Dean lets his head fall on Sam's shoulder, his eyes shut tightly when one hand wraps around his cock. With Sam's cock brushing his prostate in every thrust and his hand jacking him off, it doesn't take him long to come. His whole body's flushed and trembling as he shoots his load on Sam's hand, some of it getting in his belly.

Dean's hole tightens around him as he comes and Sam buries his face in his neck, groaning and slamming his body down a couple more times before he's coming into the condom. He pants, shuddering, just holding Dean for a moment. Jesus.

"Wow," he mumbles against Dean's skin. Then he releases him and lies him gently on the bed, pulling the condom off with a hiss. He chucks it in the garbage and flops back down next to Dean, curling around his back and burying his face in his hair. "Can shower if you wanna leave now. Welcome to stay the night," he mumbles sleepily.

Still panting through the aftershocks of his orgasm, Dean finds himself burying his body into the warm bed as he's lied down gently, arms coming up to wrap around the pillow. He hums in content without realizing when he feels Sam curl around him and for a moment, he thinks about staying the night. He has nowhere else to be and Sam's bed is so soft, Sam's body pressed to his own is warm and Dean doesn't want to go yet. He'll leave in the morning. His eyes flutter shut with a soft sigh, relaxing into the bed.

Sam has enough brain cells still firing to wipe them down with a tissue. His arm settles into the dip of Dean's side and it's easy to forget they're just client and hooker right now. Sam passes out, sleeping better than he has in a long, long time.

* * *

Dean wakes up next morning feeling sated and content, which is not something he's used to. Looking around blearily, Dean sighs when it hits him. Right. He stayed over at Sam's, again.

He reaches down to unwrap Sam's arm slowly from around his body and untangles their legs, turning to look at the other's peaceful, sleeping expression. God, Sam's really fucking gorgeous and he hadn't truly stopped to appreciate it until now. Dean reaches out, thumb rubbing over a mole above his nose before he pulls back and sits up, starting to gather his clothes and get dressed.

Sam rouses slowly, becoming aware of how his front is cold now. He can hear Dean moving around. He cracks his eyes open, smirking a little when he sees Dean hasn't found his shirt. He yawns, stretching leisurely and admiring the figure Dean cuts. "You want anything to eat before you go?" he murmurs.

"You seen my shirt?" Dean says instead of answering, frowning as he looks under the bed with still no sign of his rainbow-colored top. Huffing in frustration, Dean runs a hand through his messy hair and turns to look at Sam. "I should probably go. If I can find my shirt anyway."

Sam shrugs innocently, not at all feeling guilty about hiding the rainbow atrocity. He's busy staring at Dean's bare chest, at his little pout. It's really cute. "You can take one of mine. I've got a million. I think I have some that are too small for me."

Dean turns to glare at Sam, though there's no real heat behind the stare. "My clients like that shirt." He sighs and throws his hands up in surrender when he doesn't find it anywhere. "Great, now I'm gonna owe you a shirt." Dean heads to Sam's closet and opens it.

"Grab the one with the jerk joke–err, the one with the physics equation. Or the 'rock out with your cock out' shirt, if that's more applicable." Sam rolls out of bed reluctantly, stumbling into a pair of sweatpants. He sneaks up behind Dean, kissing over his neck and pushing his hips teasingly against his ass.

Dean inspects the last one and grins. "Mhm, I actually like this one. Sends the right message to any possible clients." He pulls the shirt over his head. It's not too tight on him, it fits him just right actually. Been a while since he's wore something he's comfortable in. Dean bites on his lower lip when he feels the kisses left on his neck and he doesn't consult with his brain as he turns and cups Sam's face to kiss him.

Sam rests his hands on Dean's hips, kissing him lazily. It's nice. Dean's body fits well against and he looks really cute in Sam's T-shirt. Sam's chest aches for a second. He's been ignoring that ache since he met Dean. He wants more than Dean's body, he wants him to be his. He wants more of that vulnerability.

Dean's hands go up to wrap around his neck, playing with his hair idly. It feels almost normal, just a kiss that won't necessarily lead to anything right now. He pulls away after a while with a genuine smile, his eyes locking with Sam's. This time the fantasy's ripped out of his hands faster. Sam's just his client.

Dean's smile falters and he unwraps his arms to pull back "I gotta go." He murmurs then, looking down and walking out the room.

San can't help but grin back down at Dean. Then his face is closing again and he's walking away. Sam sighs. Guess they're facing reality now. He follows Dean out, snatching up his phone before he can protest and putting his number in. "Call me. Or text me. If you're ever in trouble. I don't expect anything in return. Just...if you ever need help," he finishes, rubbing the back of his head. It's a little forward, but...it feels right.

"Hey!--" Dean frowns and starts reaching out to take his phone back though Sam's already put his number in by the time he pockets it again. He bites down on his lower lip to prevent the smile that's starting to stretch across from his face. Dean turns to face Sam when he gets to the doorway. "I spend my time in a crack house and sell my body for money, Sam. I'm always in trouble." He smirks and walks away, leaving Sam to close the door. "I'll see you around."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dreads the days he has to meet with Judge Tom. Guy always wants to try something new and Dean never knows what to expect. It hasn't been anything too extreme so far, and of course Dean charges a little extra if there's any specific kink his client wants fulfilled. But the guy's weird, in a really creepy way.

Exhaling as he walks out the motel with a slight limp, Dean goes back to his alley and lits up a cigarette, leaning against the wall and taking a long, deep drag. A shadow suddenly falls over him and Dean mutters "sorry, smoke break" without looking up. It's not until a familiar voice reaches his ears that he looks up with wide eyes, body tensed and frozen to the spot.

"Figured I'd find you here." Mark fucking Pellegrino smirks smugly, placing a strong hand on Dean's shoulder. "That was quite a mess you left me with, you little slut. You really thought you'd just, what? Get rid of the boss and I wouldn't find you?" The punch that follows is as unexpected and has Dean stumbling backwards with a hand holding his throbbing jaw; he doesn't have time to recover before he's being kicked on the back of his knee and drops to the ground, a shout of pain falling from his lips at the boot that steps on his scarred back.

He faintly hears sirens on the distance and he figures Rick's patrolling again. "Don't think I'm not coming back for you now that I found you." Mark hisses into his ear before slamming his head into the concrete, his cheekbone radiating pain. Dean stays on the floor heaving with pain after he walks off, debating whether it's a bad idea or not for a few good minutes before giving in and sending Sam a text to ask him to come get him at the alley.

That evening Sam’s at a frat party with the tray of brownies, selling them to drunk and already-stoned classmates. He makes a fucking killing and ends up sprawled over a couch with a smaller guy in his lap who kind of looks like Dean.

When he feels something buzzing at first he thinks it's just the blood rushing to his dick as he gets hard. But it's his phone. He nudges the guy off his lap, scrubbing his face and squinting at his phone. He doesn't know the number, but–Dean. Jesus, already?

Sam stumbles out of the frat house, not entirely sure he can drive. The alley's not far. He walks there, shaking himself and trying to sober up enough to be helpful when he gets there. He arrives and at first he thinks the alley's empty. But Dean's on the ground, obviously in pain.

Sam swears and touches him to see if he's conscious. He is. He picks him up gingerly, arms under his back and knees. Sam doesn't ask how it happened, just asks, "Hospital?"

Dean immediately shakes his head. "No hospitals." He breathes out, still visibly in pain and he hisses as he stands up, subconsciously leaning against Sam for support. "Can I just..." trailing off, Dean huffs in frustration. God, the words feel stuck in his throat, he hates asking Sam for help. "Look, I didn't make much tonight to spend it all on a motel and I can't sleep over at Meg's like this." He's not judging but he knows addicts, he's been one. He doesn't trust them in this state. "Can I crash at your place? Just for tonight?"

Sam nods quickly, wrapping an arm around Dean's middle to keep him upright. "Yeah, of course. I'll take a look at your injuries when we get home." He's still a little stoned and a little unsteady, but they make it back to his apartment well enough.

He sits Dean down in the kitchen and grabs his first aid kit, tugging off Dean's shirt before he can protest. He doesn't have any cuts there, just a dark bruise blooming over his ribs. Sam cleans and puts a Band-Aid on the cut on Dean's cheek, inspecting him critically. "Anything else hurt?"

Dean sighs softly in relief when he sees there's just a dark bruise blooming over his ribs. Best case scenario, really. Last time Mark broke one of them.

Chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully, Dean exhales, the sound a little shaky and nods. "My back," he admits quietly but then adds in a slightly louder voice. "I think it's just bruised, though." He's grown to stop being self-conscious of his body, he can't really give himself the luxury with his job but...Sam's the exception. Everything seems to be the exception lately with Sam. Dean's not sure that's a good thing.

Sam nods curtly and moves behind Dean. The scarring was intense and widespread, he realized, now that he saw it. But he doesn’t say anything. It’s not his place. Instead, he presses gently and patiently against Dean's vertebrae and ribs, testing to make sure nothing’s broken. He'd wanted to be an EMT for a while, so he'd taken lots of first aid classes.

Hissing slightly as Sam starts pressing, Dean shuts his eyes tightly but like he'd said, it ended up being just bruised. Nothing broken. Well, great. That would definitely attract more clients, as if his scars didn't disgust them already. "Told you. Just a nice bruise to go with my collection." He mutters bitterly with a huff and doesn't bother putting his shirt back on as he slowly gets off the kitchen counter.

Sam frowns, rubbing a hand over his face. It's got to be some ungodly hour in the morning now. "You got somewhere safe to stay?" he asks quietly, he has a feeling the answer is no, so Sam pushes off the counter and heads for the TV room. "I'll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed." He pauses, not looking back at Dean when he murmurs, "I'm glad you texted me. Coulda been bad for you alone."

"You're not sleeping on the couch." Dean rolls his eyes, as if his words should be obvious. He starts stripping down to just his boxers and nods towards Sam's room. "You've had your cock up my ass, dude. You can sleep in the bed with me." He doesn't want to _ask_ Sam to stay with him so he really hopes the other takes his hint that he doesn't want to be alone right now. Not after seeing Mark for the first time in a long time.

Sam winces at the phrasing, but he doesn't argue. He has a feeling it'll make Dean feel safer to sleep with him, and it warms him and saddens him at the same time. It's not his job to protect Dean, but...he wants to. He barely knows the guy. He's interesting and funny and Sam knows there's so much more to him than what's on the surface. "Alright, if you're okay with it. I'm just gonna clean up here. You can get comfortable."

Dean nods and tried to keep his expression guarded as he turns to Sam's room and heads inside, biting down on his lip when he sees his reflection in the mirror. Fucking Mark.

Sighing, Dean slowly lies down on his side, then turns on his back and winces. It hurts either way. Pressing his lips together, Dean blinks away the sudden tears that form in his eyes. God, he feels like such a goddamn coward. Mark's back and Dean can't go back to that prison.

Sam stalls in the kitchen for a while, methodically putting away the first aid kit, but after a while there's only so much he can do. He pads into his bedroom and undresses, feeling self-conscious about it even though Dean's seen him naked. He crawls in bed, but doesn't touch Dean. He's not really sure what this arrangement is. After a moment, he sighs and wraps an arm around Dean's shoulders. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks quietly.

"Not really." Instead of tensing at Sam's touch, Dean relaxes into it and he sighs softly. He's never really associated touch with comfort but Sam is warm and his hands aren't wandering down to his dick. "Not right now." He adds after a beat. Hell, he barely knows Sam but he's been considerate with him and kind and Dean's trust issues are clashing with his longing for comfort so badly right now.

"Okay." Sam goes quiet, absently reviewing the past couple days. He picked Dean up accidentally, fell asleep on him, then made him dinner and fucked him. And now he's sleeping with him in a totally innocent way. Sam sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep himself from pressing a kiss to the side of Dean's head. "Alright. G'night."

Dean's chest tightens at the kiss pressed to his head and he reaches for Sam's hand on his chest, taking it and lacing their fingers together, not saying anything. He hopes Sam doesn't say anything either. Dean closes his eyes and exhales shakily, a single tear falling. Hopefully it goes unnoticed.

Sam looks down in surprise, but he doesn't say anything about it. He just draws Dean closer, tucking his head under his chin. He waits until he hears Dean's breathing slow to sleep before he allows his exhaustion to take him.

* * *

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the morning. He checks the digital clock by Sam's nightstand and sighs shakily as he unwraps the other's arms from him slowly. He's not gonna get anymore sleep, he might as well get off the bed.

Sitting up slowly, he stands up and goes to Sam's kitchen to get a glass of water, but his slightly shaking hands somehow mess up and the glass falls from his hands to the floor. "Shit." Dean curses quietly.

Sam's woken at some point in the early morning by a noise. He darts up, immediately noticing Dean's absence. His front is a little damp--Dean must've been sweating like crazy. Jesus, what was the noise?

Sam grabs the nearest weapon--one of his thick law books--and creeps through his apartment, heart in his throat. He huffs and drops the book on the table when he sees it's just Dean standing by the shattered remains of one of his glasses. "Jesus, dude, scared the shit outta me. C'mon, get over here. Don't step on the glass."

"M'sorry." Dean murmurs, then his eyes look to the book Sam dropped on the table and a small, slightly amused smile tugs at his lips. "And if I was a thief, you were gonna bore me to death by reading me that?" Dean huffs and carefully steps around the mess he just made and next to Sam. He's still sweating like crazy and a little ashamed Sam caught him in the middle of this, his hands still shaking a little.

Sam quirks a smile, quickly sweeping up the glass. He looks down at Dean and it's obvious he's still freaked the fuck out. Sam puts a hand on Dean's hip, avoiding his back, and guides him to the couch. "Can't sleep? We never did get to watch that movie." He plops down, opening his lap so Dean can sit on him or next to him if he wants, but leaving enough space in case he doesn't.

Dean takes a seat next to him and desperately tries to ignore his shaky hands, putting them on his lap and licking his lips. A little smile shows on his face and he turns to Sam. "Well, it kinda seemed like you were more interested in making out than watching the movie at the time." At least now that he's awake, the memories are no longer playing over and over in his head.

Sam tucks into himself a little more, smiling. "Can you blame me?" He starts the movie, suppressing a yawn. He's tired as hell, but he doesn't wanna leave Dean alone to fight whatever demons he's got. "If you wanna like, take a bath or change clothes or anything...just let me know," San murmurs, rubbing his eyes.

Dean notices the way Sam's rubbing at his eyes tiredly and nudges him slightly to get his attention. "You can go back to sleep if you want, Sam." He says when the other turns to look at him. "Seriously, you don't have to stay up with me." Dean already feels like it's too much that Sam picked him up at the alley and is now letting him stay at his house for the moment

Sam shakes his head, betraying himself with a yawn. "Don't wanna leave you to suffer alone," he teases, giving Dean a little grin. He notices, in that moment, how young he looks. The gel in his hair has lost its strength and gone limp, there are bags under his eyes, and he looks so... vulnerable. Sam gets a rush of protectiveness. Dean deserves to be pampered. "D'you want anything to eat?" he offers. It's not much, but it's what he can do.

Dean rolls his eyes but feels a grin tugging at his lips at the fact that Sam wants to stay awake with him. "Thank you, I don't think I could've made it through a shitty Tom Cruise movie without you." He bites on his lower lip thoughtfully at the offer and opens his mouth to say he's fine but his growling stomach chooses that exact moment to betray him. Dean gives Sam a sheepish smile and shrugs. "I could eat. I'm already taking over your bed, might as well take over your food."

Sam snorts and gets up to rifle through the fridge. He's not sure he can make something without passing out and burning down the building in the process, so he grabs a bag of chips and nukes some popcorn (and a Coke to keep himself awake), coming back with two big bowls and plopping down next to Dean, handing him a soda.

Dean murmurs a "thanks" as he takes the soda from him and takes a handful of popcorn, shoving them into his mouth and alternating between taking some of the chips too.

They start watching the movie, and Dean turns to Sam halfway through it, seeing the other's barely keeping himself awake. Licking his lips, Dean takes the last sip from his soda and reaches for the remote to pause the movie. "C'mon, Sasquatch. Back to bed. You're gonna fall asleep any minute now and your back will thank me in the morning for taking you to bed."

That Coke's doing nothing for him. Sam blinks blearily at the nickname. Jess used to call him that. His face twists for a moment before he buries the anguish. "Okay. Only if you come with me," he mumbles, taking Dean by the hand. The sun's starting to pinken the horizon and Sam would love to sleep until noon.

Dean frowns slightly when he sees Sam's face twist, his expression almost pained and Dean wonders if he said something wrong. He doesn't ask though, just takes Sam's hand and turns the TV off as he stands from the couch and goes back to bed with him. He sighs once they're lying down and before Sam can close his eyes, Dean speaks up. "Thanks for helping me. At the alley. And letting me stay." He says quietly, looking up into his eyes.

Sam wraps an arm around Dean's without thinking, pulling their bodies close. He's getting used to sleeping next to someone. He's not sure that's a good thing. How long can this domestic fantasy last? He smiles sleepily, though, and kisses Dean gently. Funny thing is, he hasn't felt the urge to get high once while Dean was around. He mumbles a good night and passes out, curls around the smaller man.

Dean only lets himself practically melt into the gentle kiss because well, Sam's falling asleep and he feels like he kinda needed that after tonight. He ends up falling asleep as well and luckily for him, ends up having a dreamless sleep this time, buried comfortably in Sam's arms, his face practically buried in the crook of his neck as he presses closer subconsciously in his deep sleep.

* * *

Sam wakes slowly, contently, with a beautiful man in his arms. He huffs out a quiet breath, appreciating Dean's sleeping face. He's so lax and off-guard. Sam traces his freckles, smiling to himself. He likes Dean like this: in his arms, asleep. Sam sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Dean's cheek and checking the time. It's almost noon. That's fine. He'll make them lunch. 

Dean wakes up half an hour after Sam does, blinking slowly and rubbing his eyes as he yawns. He wraps his arms around the pillow and nuzzles it with a soft sigh before forcing himself to fully awake, sitting up slowly and getting off bed. He thinks about slipping into his jeans but they're too tight and uncomfortable so he ends up grabbing a pair of sweatpants from Sam.

Walking out to the kitchen where the other's apparently making something, Dean walks in his line of view to make his presence known. "Hey, I borrowed your sweatpants, hope you don't mind." They're a little loose on him but they make do.

Sam turns, spatula in hand, grinning at Dean. "You look really cute," he blurts out. He wedges his cigarette in the corner of his mouth to distract from his flush. He doesn't usually smoke, but he was feeling the itch to get high and he wanted to be sober around Dean. This was the next best thing. He huffs a cloud out the open window, flipping the burgers he's cooking on the stove. "It's noon, so I figured I’d make lunch. How d'you like your burgers? Smokes are on the table if you want one."

Dean's a little surprised at the words. No one's ever called him cute. Hot? Sure. But cute? Yeah, that's a new one. Huffing, Dean scratches the back of his neck and hopes Sam doesn't see his light blush. "I look ridiculous. These barely fit. But they're comfy." He shrugs and runs a hand over the soft fabric absently, pulling them up before going over to the table to grab a cigarette when Sam offers one, taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke. God, he needed that. Dean's eyes lit up when the smell of meat catches up to him and he stands up. "Need some help?"

Sam's eyes keep slipping to Dean's hips every time his overlarge sweatpants fall and expose them. He can't help himself. It's hot. "Uh, yeah, if you wanna throw the fries in the oven. They're in the freezer, and I already preheated the oven, so if you wanna just put 'em on a try and stick 'em in there." It's so domestic Sam might puke, but he likes it. A lot. He moves to the side so Dean can get at the oven, just admiring him. He looks good all the time, wearing anything. How's that possible? He doesn't wanna kiss Dean now for fear of seeming...out of line. They're nothing but strangers now, right? Friends of circumstance? Sam clears his throat and takes a drag, turning to look out the window.

"Okay." Dean agrees easily and takes the fries, brushing past Sam to put them in the oven. He takes another long drag from his cigarette and turns to look at the other when he heard him clearing his throat. Sam looks...uncomfortable? Hesitant, maybe.

Dean's first thought is that he's already overstayed his welcome here by not leaving first thing in the morning like he usually does. He doesn't know why he's sad Sam wants him go so soon, the guy already let him crash here for the night and that's all Dean asked of him.

"I don't have to stay for lunch." He suddenly blurts out, avoiding eye contact as he says this. "I should probably go, anyway. Find a place to stay for now. I'm not gonna be able to work until the bruises fade anyway."

"No!" Sam flushes, dropping his hands and taking a drag. "I mean, you can stay here. You can stay for lunch. As long as you want, I mean. Honestly, it's not a problem." Sam shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down. "You weren't in great shape when I came and got you. I don't wanna get another text from you and find you in pieces, alright?" he mutters, eyes flicking to the bruises Dean already has. How did this hooker become so important to him already? So much more than that? "Grab some plates," he adds briskly, without leaving room for argument. Dean's staying.

Being outside right now, when he knows Mark is out too, doesn't seem as appealing so Dean latches onto Sam's words and nods slowly, trying to hide the immense relief he's feeling as he grabs some plates and helps Sam set the table. He can vaguely remember the last time he helped someone set the table but the memories are too painful to relieve.

Huffing in exasperation when the sweatpants keep falling off of him, Dean turns his head when he hears a snort and glares at Sam. "Shut up, s'not my fault you're a giant with long ass legs" He mutters though he can't help but grin at Sam's smile. Fuck, dimples. He really wants to draw him.

Sam smirks to himself, tugging the sweatpants down a little bit as he walks by, leaning out of the way of Dean's swat. He chuckles, finishing up the burgers and putting them on the plates. He takes the fries out, debating whether or not it's too early for beer. Never too early. He grabs a couple and settles at the table, snubbing out his cigarette and sighing contently.

"Alright. next time, you cook, freeloader," he teases, then realizes that probably wasn't the best joke and grimaces. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

Dean turns to swat Sam's hand away and glares when the other moves out of his reach. "Asshole." He murmurs, tugging the pants back up with a chuckle. He sits down to join him and puts out his cigarette; though his smile falters slightly at the comment. Dean waves it off and takes a sip of his beer. "Don't expect much. I don't have a lot of experience when it comes to cooking."

Sam's comment does remind him of the issue at hand though. He really does needs to find a place to stay while he gets back on his feet. "Look, I uh...working's out of the question right now for me but I have some cash saved up. I could pay you for letting me stay here, maybe...a few days more? I don't...really have anywhere else to go." Dean admits quietly, looking down at his hands.

Sam waves a hand dismissively, mouth full. "Honestly. All you're doing is eating my food, and my scholarship covers half of that cost anyway. If you really want, you can make it up to me by doing me favors." He flushes and backpedals. "Uh, not sexual favors, I wouldn't--ask for that, I mean like...cooking, or cleaning, or something. Jeez. Sorry," he mumbles, burying himself in his meal. He's not usually such a spaz.

He glances back up, processing the rest of what Dean said. He's got nowhere else to go, huh? It's...sad. Somebody as gorgeous and smart and funny as Dean deserves better than his shit life. Sam clears his throat. "Once you're...good to go, if you wanna live here, you can pitch in some money to the rent. Just don't bring clients here," he adds with a grin.

"You're always such a spaz?" Dean smiles in amusement and rolls his eyes at Sam's last words. "You really think I'd bring them here? My clients usually pay for motels or if they have money, five star hotels. Of course, I occasionally have the exhibitionist who likes to go at it in the alley." He takes a bite of his burger and promptly moans at the taste and the juices and grease flowing into his mouth. "I don't know, I think you're gonna have to stick with the cooking." He swallows his bite and grins brightly at Sam, before the rest of his words sink in and he stares in disbelief at him. Live here? "I was saving up to buy a place, I guess I could...pitch in for the rent, sure."

Sam brightens when Dean agrees to stay. "Awesome. It gets lonely living alone sometimes and--that sounded like I was asking for sex again, didn't it?" Sam sighs, burying his face in his hands and peeking through his fingers at Dean with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. And no, I'm not usually like this. Usually I'm a lot more high." Speaking of which, he was supposed to be meeting Brady tonight to sell him some mushrooms.

"Uh, one thing I gotta ask you though, is don't mess with the boxes I have at the top of my closet. Lots of drugs in there, none of them labelled. Like, enough to get me life in prison. So don't touch 'em, don't try any of 'em. If you want something, just let me know."

Dean laughs softly at Sam's sheepish smile. His smile does dim a little though at the mention of drugs. Okay, well that changes things. He doesn't know if he's gonna be able to live here if there's that kind of temptation around, especially now that he knows where they are.

Licking his lips, Dean reaches for a couple of fries and shoves them into his mouth. "So, you're uh, really into getting high, then. I thought it was more of an occasional thing, not that you actually had drugs in here."

Sam's face tightens at Dean's reaction. "So you are recovering, then." It's not a question. He shrugs, but can't make eye contact, rubbing his track marks. "Yeah, I used to be really heavy into coke and heroin, but..." Jess died. He couldn't anymore. "I got off it. Now it's just psychedelics and weed. I sell, though. If it makes you uncomfortable..." He'll what, stop? He can't. The library job doesn't pay enough to keep him going, even with the scholarship. Sam frowns. "I won't get high while you're around."

"Yeah." Dean swallows thickly, looking away even when Sam's not meeting his eyes. He chews on his bottom lip and takes a drag of his cigarette. "No, I don't mind that you sell, I just...I don't know if I can stay here now that I know." He didn't use the acid Sam paid him with but he's not sure if he's strong enough to keep fighting it, especially when it's at the place he's staying at. Still, Dean had nowhere else to go and staying here with Sam, it seemed...safe.

Sam really doesn't want to see Dean go. "I can keep it somewhere else," he says with a tinge of desperation. "I just...it's not a big deal to move it and I don't wanna send you back out on the streets," he admits, lighting another cigarette. The nicotine calms him. He exhales smoke, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Dean hesitates, itching for a smoke himself and finally giving in after a second, lighting another cigarette and taking a long drag. He stays quiet for a minute and then starts talking as he blows out the smoke. "I didn't start consuming by choice." He looks away, sighing heavily at the admission. "I know the way addict hookers end up, they spend all their money on drugs. I wasn't gonna go down the same road. They forced me. Drugged me."

Sam's eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his beer. He coughs a couple times, hand twitching to reach across the table and comfort Dean. "Who?" he asks breathlessly. "The guy who beat you up?" This was...insane. Who would force addictive drugs on a hooker? Psychos.

Dean sighs and starts toying with the label on his beer, cigarette still between his lips. So, he's really gonna talk about it. He's gonna talk about what happened for the first time.

"Yeah, him and...this other guy." Dean runs a hand through his hair. "Alastair. He was sort of my pimp. I didn't--I was new to the whole 'living on the streets' thing and it hadn't even crossed my mind to charge for sex then. Drawings don't exactly pay on the streets, Sam. Especially when all you have is an old, worn out pencil that's about to snap." Dean chuckles bitterly and takes another drag. "Alastair found me. He said a pretty boy like me could easily make a hundred bucks a day just with my lips."

Sam went silent, listening and cupping his beer, cigarette hanging forgotten from his mouth. "That's horrible," he breathes. The guy basically started whoring Dean. And Dean had been homeless before? What kind of piece of shit conned someone like Dean like that? "Is that how, uh, how you got your scars?" he asked a little timidly, not sure if it was alright to ask.

Dean tenses at the mention of his scars but he nods slowly, his beer forgotten as he takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke before speaking up, clearing his throat. "Yeah, it was harmless at first. I was making good money and I had a place to stay and three meals a day." He pauses and takes a deep breath. This is where it gets hard to keep going "But then he uh...said I was ready to step up. Bondage. It started light enough. Blindfolds, cuffs. But...I wasn't on board with other stuff like whipping, flogging and blood play, with knives. That didn't make a difference to Alastair. He drugged me so I wouldn't struggle."

It's something out of a horror movie. Dean was tortured and _raped_. Sam was on his feet before he decided to move, wrapping Dean in his arms. "They'll never touch you again," he said fiercely, holding Dean's body right against his. God. He never wanted to let Dean out of his arms.

Dean slowly put out the cigarette with shaky hands and instead of pushing Sam away, he welcomed the embrace, his face burying in the other's chest for a second before he pulls away. "Alastair won't. He's dead." He's not gonna go into details though, not yet. Sam doesn't need to know he has the man's blood on his hands. "Mark will." Dean rubs his eyes in an attempt to try and hold back the tears of frustration. "He's not gonna stop looking for me now."

Sam holds Dean by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. "No he won't. If you ever see him again, call the police. Your scars are proof enough to get him put in prison." He's never felt so strongly about anyone.

"And what am I gonna say when they ask me how he gave me the scars? That I willingly let him and his buddy pimp me out and I was selling sex?" Dean huffs and rubs at his eyes in one last attempt to dry them up. "It's not like they forced me into prostitution, Sam." They did force him with the drugs though, but not initially. He'd been sober and making cash then.

Sam sighs and hugs Dean close again, pulling away after to give him space. "Do you wanna go out and do something?" he offers, changing topics. He'll take Dean anywhere he wants.

Sighing, Dean looks up and chews on his lower lip. "Actually, could you take me to Meg's? I don't wanna risk walking out alone right now but I left all my stuff there." His measly little bag where he keeps his money and sketchbook anyway, with a few items of clothing. He's not stupid to leave it in plain sight at a crack house though; it's well hidden.

Sam flounders, then nods. "Yeah, I can do that." He grabbed a shirt for himself and one for Dean and led him out the door.

He vaguely remembered the way to Meg's and found it eventually.

Sam got out with Dean, following close behind him, eyes darting around. He could probably fight off Mark if he showed up.

Dean's about to knock on the door when suddenly he hears a moan. Frowning, he presses his ear close to the door and hears various sounds like groans and heavy breathing. Definitely more moaning. "Wait here. I'll just be quick and grab my stuff."

Dean started opening the door and turned to Sam with a smirk "Or if you want a sneak peek of the orgy...they're probably too high to even notice you." He left the door slightly open as he stepped in and carefully avoided on the bodies sprawled all over the place in all kinds of positions too, to get to the room where he kept his bag.

Sam stepped in anyway, making a face at the writhing bodies. He might even think it was hot if they weren't all tripping balls. But he didn't know how he felt about strangers touching him. It seemed kinda gross and kinda hot in a taboo way. That was an inventive position.

Sam followed Dean eventually, palming his crotch briefly to press away the uncomfortable half-mast. "We good here?"

Dean turns to Sam where he's crouching on the floor, his backpack in hand and checks all his money and stuff is still there. Satisfied when it's all there, he stands up and doesn't fail to notice the hand awkwardly palming Sam's crotch. Grinning in amusement, Dean huffs and walks past him and out the room, intentionally brushing his ass against Sam's front. "You like what you saw?" They step back into the living room and Dean can barely spot Meg in the mass of bodies.

Sam scowled half-heartedly when Dean brushed against him. Little shit did that on purpose. He flushed red at Dean's question, eyes slanting away. "It's more of a...morbid curiosity." Although Sam wonders what Dean would look like suck cock while Sam fucks him. The thought doesn't help calm his awkward boner.

"Well, d'you wanna join?" Dean cocks a brow and breaks into a fit of laughter not soon after. Sam looks so awkward, shifting in what he probably thinks is a subtle way to try and hide his boner. "Trust me, it's best if you don't participate. Some of those junkies are hookers too and not all of them are clean." He reaches for Sam's hand and tugs him out of the house. "C'mon, I got everything." Which probably looks pathetic because everything he owns is in a simple backpack.

Sam nods, almost relieved at Dean's laughter, and also thoroughly embarrassed. Maybe with a cleaner crowd, he can...bring it up later. It only occurs to him once they're outside that they'd both accepted without thought that they're...together, kind of. The way Dean's holding his hand solidifies the realization. Sam takes his hand back and coughs, eyes slanting away. Maybe he shouldn't mention it. It could fuck everything up.

"Look, are we, um..." He rubs the back of his head. He's been doing that a lot recently. There's a big knot back there. "What are we? I mean, whatever we are, you can still live with me, I don't wanna...cause awkwardness and force you out or anything, but I just gotta know, Dean, because I--" He cuts himself off from his babbling, exhaling through his nose. "I just wanna keep you safe," he adds lamely. It's not what he was gonna say and he know Dean can tell.

Dean turns to Sam with a frown when he pulls his hand away. He hadn't really been thinking when he'd reached out to take his hand, it felt more natural to do it now.

Dean watches in silence as Sam seems to gather the courage to come out and ask the question he's been dreading. Fuck. Looking down with a sigh, he twists the straps on his bag absently, biting down on the inside of his cheek. His eyes snap back up when Sam's tone gets softer and he cuts himself off; something tells him that's not how he was gonna end that sentence. "We're...you are..." He trails off with a frustrated huff and looks back down. "Why do we have to label this? I mean, why can't we just go with it?"

Dean's not even sure how to answer that question anyway. He has trust issues to spare, he's scarred and messed up and yeah, maybe he's attracted to Sam and he likes him a little more than he should. What does that make them? Friends? Even after they'd had sex? Except that was part of his job.

Sam's face falls at the inconclusive answer. Maybe he's just a port in a storm for Dean. Maybe once he's back on his feet, he'll leave without a second thought. Hell, maybe he's even staying for the sex because Sam's the only one who doesn't treat him like shit.

Sam deflates visibly, nodding in acquiescence. "Right," he sighs. No reason to be a queen about this. He ducks back into the car, waiting for Dean to get in wordlessly before heading back to his apartment.

Dean gets into the car with a heavy sigh and a crestfallen expression. He guesses that's not the answer Sam was expecting.

The ride back is painfully awkward and quiet, except for the radio filling in the silence.

* * *

Dean gets off the car and follows after Sam, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom and chewing on his lower lip. He could really use a cigarette now. "I don't know what we are." His voice is small and quiet as he says it, not at all looking like the confident, cocky hooker Sam stumbled upon back at that alley. "I don't know what you want us to be." Dean shrugs and tightens his grip on his bag as he slowly looks up at Sam. "All I know is that I have no one else right now, nowhere to stay and you're letting me stay here even though you have no obligation to me. Why?"

Sam's relieved when Dean finally says something, but he doesn't really have concrete answers. Dean looks so unsure. It's odd to see him like that. Sam leans against the opposite wall like it'll help him hold up the weight of those questions. "I...I initially just...wanted you. Because you're beautiful. You were like this abstract, incredible thing that I could actually have for the right price. But then, I dunno. I wanted to be decent to you. Make you feel good. And I--I like you a lot. I’m not saying I wanna, y'know, get you tied down in a---a relationship or something, but I just..." Sam sighs roughly. "I like having you around and I like you and I like having sex with you, but if you just wanna be friends, or even just---just live here until you're ready to leave, I'm okay with that too."

"I've never been in a relationship." Dean admits quietly; there's a light blush on his face thanks to Sam's words. He thought maybe Sam just wanted him for sex, but to hear that he actually likes Dean...well, that's never happened before. Of course, Sam's not at all like any of his previous clients. "I think once we've crossed the line of penetration, we can't really just 'be friends', Sam." Dean tries for a lighthearted tone but fails spectacularly. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and fiddles with his bag to keep his hands occupied. "You don't want to be in a...a relationship with me, Sam. Alastair and Mark really fucked me up, I don't just mean my scars. I got trust issues for a lifetime."

Sam can't say he's surprised. It sounded like Mark and Alastair got him pretty young and being a hooker doesn't allow for much personal romance. His mouth quirks a little at Dean's joke, already shaking his head before Dean finished speaking. "You've trusted me so far, haven't you? Can I try to...earn more of it? I don't wanna push you into anything, Dean, and if you ever feel like I am, tell me, please, and I'm not sayin' I'm gonna fix you or anything--" He steps a little closer, holding Dean's hands in his own, watching his thumb rub over the knuckles. "'Cause you don't need to be fixed. You've got issues, sure, but the Dean I know is amazing and smart and funny and all I want is to...spend as much time with you as you'll let me. Doing whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy. I've never even seen you draw," he adds with a small smile.

Dean looks down at their joined hands and he feels lighter then. Like maybe he can let his walls down and not be so closed off all the time. He decides to push off his concerns and worries to the back of his mind and just focus on Sam.

Dean looks back up with a small smile and pulls one of his hands back to pick up his bag where he'd left it on the floor, pulling out his sketchbook and handing it to Sam. "I like you too. I just...I don't wanna worry about needing to label what we have, y'know? Not now. Let's just...go with it, okay?" He looks down at the sketchbook and lets go of it, trusting Sam with it, which is definitely a huge step for him. That sketchbook is his most prized possession. "My mom gave that to me. It's a little worn out."

Sam nods. That's... good. So they don't have expectations or obligations. He's tempted to ask the one last burning question: so are we fucking? But he figures that's insensitive, and honestly, he'd get over it if the answer was no.

Sam's eyes widen when Dean hands him the sketchbook. He opens it and flips through a couple pages. "Dean, wow... These are amazing. You're incredible."

Dean's smile brightens at that and he watches intently as Sam flips through the pages; through the drawings of strangers and one of his Mom, the room of the five star hotel he stayed in and he smirks when Sam gets to one he did of one of the various orgies Meg hosts. "I really need a new one, though. I'm running out of space."

Sam can't pull his eyes away from the orgy one. It's so erotic but so well-done. "Have you done any self-portraits?" he asks, going back to that one of the woman who looks like Dean. He pauses, looking up at Dean. "Is this your sister?"

Dean shakes his head, reaching out to trace the woman's face slowly. "I don't really like drawing myself. I never get it right." He quirks a grin at that, though it takes on a softer aspect when Sam asks about the woman. "That's my mom."

"Oh," Sam says quietly. He looks at it for another moment before leaning in and kissing Dean. "Thank you for showing me. Whaddaya say we cuddle and you can doodle and we'll watch some shit TV?"

Dean's a little surprised at the kiss, he wasn't sure Sam would want to kiss him after giving him vague answers about where they stood but he moved his lips against his either way, sighing softly before pulling back. He smiles at the suggestion (his smiles are more genuine nowadays) and rummages through his backpack until he finds what he's looking for. He'll go with charcoal for this. "Sound good."

Sam stretches out on the couch, tempted to pull Dean into his lap. But he's not sure if that's crossing a line, so he just leaves room for Dean, turning on the TV and snacking on the chips from the other night.

Dean flips through the pages on his sketchbook until he gets to a blank page, looking between the couch and Sam before deciding he'd get a better angle up close. He walks over and promptly sits down on the other’s lap, grinning and studying Sam's face intently before starting to draw.

Sam blinks when Dean sits on his lap---not complaining, though. He holds his hips for a second before he realizes Dean's drawing him. "Oh, you're--do you want me to look at you or keep watching TV or--" He shuts his mouth, stealing a quick kiss and settling back.

Dean chuckles into the kiss and smiles brightly at Sam when he pulls back. His cheeks actually hurt a little from smiling so much. "Just act natural. You don't need to pose like one of my French girls, Sammy." The nickname rolls of his tongue just like that.

Sam chuckles, then the nickname processes and he freezes for a moment. Jessica used to call him that. He should probably...mention her to Dean, since Dean did spill his past. Sam thaws after a moment, hands resting on Dean's thighs. "My fiancée used to call me that," he murmurs.

Dean slowly looks up from where he'd been starting on Sam's eyes, shifting slightly on his lap. "Oh." He exclaims softly. "I'm sorry, it just slipped." He doesn't want to pry but he doesn't want to just brush it off either. Dean rests one of his hands on top of Sam's, lacing their fingers.

"No no no, it's fine. I don't mind. It's been years." Sam sucks in a breath, eyes on their joined fingers. "Her name was Jessica. We were driving home one night from a party and I was–I was tripping, way too out of my mind to be driving. I crashed the car and Jess...didn't make it. I came out unscathed. That's why I don't use hardcore drugs anymore. I should get off all of 'em, but..." He's too weak not to keep doing it. Sam rubs Dean's thighs obsessively, eyes down.

"Fuck." Dean immediately ducks his head in shame after the word leaves his slips. Jesus, Winchester, way to control yourself. "I'm sorry. That's awful, what happened to her." He squeezes Sam's hand at those last words and he nods in understanding. "I know. It took me a while to actually get clean. And I had a lot of slip ups along the way."

Sam snorts a little at Dean's reaction, shrugging one shoulder. "I still...blame myself, but...it's in the past." He hesitates. He doesn't really consider getting off the drugs he uses as 'getting clean' because he doesn't consider it a problem. Which is a bad mentality. He squeezes Dean's hips regardless, thankful for the support. "Thanks. I'll get there."

Dean wants to tell Sam that he shouldn't blame himself, but putting himself in the other's shoes, Dean knows he'd be carrying the same guilt as well. He kisses Sam's cheek then, lips lingering on his skin before pulling back and focusing on his drawing again. "My mom died in a fire." He might as well fill Sam in on it since they're gonna be living together. Besides, he already opened up about Alastair and Mark

Sam leans into the kiss gladly, humming against Dean's lips. Then he drops that bombshell and Sam's left slack-jawed. "Uh, shit, man. I'm sorry." It sounds stilted so he exhales and gives Dean a wry smile. "Sounds like we've both carried the devil on our backs. I'm glad I found you, Dean."

Dean shakes his head and smiles albeit a little sadly at Sam. "S'okay. Well, not really but it was long ago." He looks up into Sam's eyes and back to his drawing, working on the details until he's satisfied with how they turn out. "I miss her, though." Dean admits quietly. Then Sam's words make him pause and he looks up slowly, staring at him, his throat suddenly feeling too tight. "Yeah, me too."

Sam can see Dean's eyes getting a little watery, so he kisses him before those tears can spill and drop on to his drawing. He smiles at him, thumbing the corners of his eyes. "So you gonna draw me or what?"

Dean rolls his eyes and wipes his eyes, lips still tingling from the kiss. "What d'you think I've been doing?" He holds the sketchbook against his chest when Sam tries to take a look and grins. "Nuh-huh. You'll get to see it when it's finished. Just be glad I got your eyes. M'gonna add some color to those later."

Sam huffs, settling back into the couch, fingers absently rubbing Dean's hips. They sneak under his shirt just to touch his bare skin, pressing against the hollow at each hip, rubbing. When Dean puts down his pencil, Sam seizes the sketchbook and drops it on the table, grabbing Dean and tickling his stomach, grinning.

Humming absently as Sam's fingers slip under his shirt to brush over bare skin, Dean's pink tongue pokes out from between his lips in concentration as he starts on Sam's smile. It takes him a while but he hasn't had time to draw in so long that Dean's fingers work fast. Sam's a good inspiration too. He puts down his pencil once he's done adding the dimples.

Before he can react though, Sam snatches the sketchbook from his hands and doesn't give Dean time to protest as he's suddenly tickling him. Laughter erupts from him and he tries to squirm away, hands swatting in between fits of laughter to try and push him away. "Stop! G-get away, giant!"

Sam laughs, flipping them over and pinning Dean so he can tickle him. "Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a sexy little artist," he fake-booms, pushing up Dean's shirt and tickling his ribs. His face is all flushed as he gasps for air and Sam can't help but think how cute he is.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as Sam tickles him, gasping for air and squirming to try and get him off. "I'm gonna pee your couch if you don't stop!" He manages to get between what are now giggles and is left gasping for air when Sam's fingers seemed to have slowed down. "Not sexy anymore?"

Sam relents, flopping down on top of Dean and kissing at his neck. "Definitely still sexy," he mumbles, muffled. He lifts his head and pecks Dean's lips, glancing at the sketchbook. "Can I see now?" he needles, scooping Dean back into his lap.

"You're so impatient." Dean shakes his head but takes his sketchbook and the pencil, adding a few more touches and details. "Definitely not someone who could pose for me." He chuckles and makes sure he's absolutely satisfied with the drawing before turning it around and showing his drawing to Sam. "I still wanna add some color, though. Especially to the eyes."

Sam grumbles, looking over the drawing once Dean turns it around. It's Incredible. It looks just like him. Except...he looks a little less...burdened than he sees himself. Less tired, more alive. Better-looking than he thought he was, too. Is that how Dean sees him? Sam grins and looks up at Dean. "It's amazing. Like a mirror. I love it, babe."

Dean's grin widens at the pet name and he takes the sketchbook back from him, fingers running gently over the outline. "Babe, huh?" He leans forward and pecks Sam's lips. "I kinda like it." It all seems so...couple-y and yeah, he knows he said they didn't need to label this but it's starting to feel like a relationship. "I really need to draw you naked next time. Full frontal, you know?" He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.

A blush blooms on his cheeks and before Sam can stutter about the 'babe' thing, Dean's wiggling his eyebrows and telling him he wants to draw him naked. Sam covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. "The things you do to me, Dean...uh, I don't know your last name. Mine's Wesson."

Dean laughs and takes Sam's hands away from his face. "I'm gonna add the blush to my drawing now." Still smiling, Dean repeats it in his head. Sam Wesson. It fits him. "Winchester. Like the rifle." It feels strange to even say it out loud. For so long, he's just been Dean, or Jason. He's been just a whore and a cheap lay for so long now. "Seriously though, would you let me draw you naked?"

Dean Winchester. Sam likes that. He contemplates Dean's question, then shrugs. "I mean, you've seen me naked. I guess I'm okay with you immortalizing me naked." He grins and winks. "I don't have to be hard the whole time, right? I might need some help with that." He gives Dean a wide, shit-eating grin.

Dean sits on Sam's lap again and hooks his arms around his neck, grinning as one finger slowly traces down his jaw to his chest. "I do need the exact length to draw you." He chuckles and rests his hand in top of Sam's stomach, slipping under his shirt a second later. "I wouldn't mind lending a helping hand."

Sam stares at him because, um, one, he was joking and two, right now? Sam manages to squeak out the second thought out loud, jumping when Dean's hand slips under his shirt. "Uh, I mean, sure, if you wanna."

Dean rolls his eyes and lets his fingers tickle Sam's ribs and stomach before he pulls away with a chuckle. "Not right now." He leans forward and pecks Sam's lips, pulling back with a sigh. "Look, I guess we're kind of...together now? I don't know. I just--y'know, I like kissing you and I wouldn't mind if you fucked me again, too."

Sam grins slowly, pulling Dean against his chest and kissing him breathless. "Yeah? How're you gonna draw me if I'm fucking you senseless?" Sam teases, rocking his hips up against Dean's ass. His eyes flick to the kitchen and he has a brief, hysterical idea. "Wanna fuck in the kitchen?" he asks, flushing.

Dean bites down on his lower lip, a grin stretching across his face as he rocks his hips back down slowly, his ass rubbing over Sam's crotch. "I'm really good at multitasking." He follows Sam's gaze and his grin shifts into a wicked one. He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant as he stands up and heads to the kitchen "Can't be harder than shower sex."

Sam groans quietly, his lap suddenly cold when Dean gets up. He stalks after him, eyes on his swaying hips. Sam's eyes dart back up and he grins, reaching out to squeeze both ass cheeks and push Dean against the counter. His mouth drops to his neck, sucking and kissing.

Laughing breathlessly when he's pushed against the counter, Dean tilts his head back to give Sam's lips more access to his neck, his laughter trailing off into a moan when teeth suddenly sink down on his skin. His hands grip the edges of the counter tightly, ass teasingly pushing back and pressing into Sam.

Sam groans approvingly, pushing his hips forward and grinding into the soft give of Dean's ass. He grabs Dean's wrists and pulls them behind his back, marking up the back of Dean's neck with his mouth. "Uh, sorry, is this okay?" he asks, realizing that restraining Dean hands may not be the best idea given his history.

Dean's eyes flutter close, his breath hitching in surprise when his hands are pulled behind his back. Shaking his head at the other's words, Dean turns his head to lock eyes with Sam, letting his walls down. "S'okay, don't stop. I'll tell you if I'm not okay with something." He realizes then, this is the first time he's gonna have sex plainly because he wants to. It's not part of his job

Sam nods, stealing a kiss and bending Dean over the counter until his chest is pressed to it. God, what an ass. Sam gives it a hard slap, grinning at Dean's yelp. He nibbles on Dean's ear, grinding his increasingly hard cock against Dean's ass.

Dean's body jerks slightly at the slap, a yelp falling from his lips, turning into a moan when Sam starts nibbling on his earlobe. He spreads his legs so Sam's cock is sliding between his cheeks through the sweatpants, his breath getting heavier as he feels his dick getting hard. "C'mon, fuck me." He rasps his words low and heated.

Sam murmurs assent, sliding Dean's sweatpants down just over the curve of his ass. God. Sam drops to his knees, pressing his face into Dean's ass and lapping at his hole. It's so fuckable. So pretty. Sam bites one cheek hard enough to bruise, kissing the spot in apology after. "I worship your ass," he mumbles, worming his tongue back at Dean's hole.

Dean exhales in relief once his cock is free from the confines of his sweatpants, one of his hands tugging up his shirt and shivering finely when his thumb rubs over his nipple. His grip falters and his shirt falls back down when he feels Sam's tongue on his ass. He can't stop the whimper that escapes his lips. Oh god, it's been so long since he's been rimmed and he hadn't even enjoyed it that much back then. Hissing at the sudden bite, he huffs breathlessly at the kiss, head falling to the counter where Sam starts lapping at his tongue again. "A-ah, fuck, I love your tongue..."

Sam smirks, pressing his tongue deeper and pulling Dean's cheeks apart. "Hold your cheeks for me," he orders, waiting for Dean to obey, admiring the image he makes. "So pretty. So slutty," he breathes, diving back down and lapping hungrily at Dean's exposed hole. He slips his tongue back inside, working a couple fingers in alongside it and tapping at Dean's prostate.

Dean turns to look at Sam, the sight alone making a wave of arousal run through him. Reaching back, Dean holds his ass cheeks apart, initially biting his lip to hold his moans back but that plan pretty much falls apart when Sam's finger slips in and taps his prostate. "Fuck!" He pushes his ass back, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the counter tightens.

Sam smirks, licking around his fingers as they rub slowly over Dean's prostate. "I made you come twice last time. Let's go for three this time." Before Dean can argue, Sam dives back in, inching his tongue in alongside the fingers working Dean's prostate, his free hand stroking over Dean's cock, leaking already. Sam's hard in his sweatpants, but his only concern is Dean's pleasure.

"Y-you're gonna be the death of me, Sam Wesson." God, not even ten minutes in and he's already stuttering and stumbling over his words. The slow, teasing brush against his prostate is sweet torture and he's so goddamn tempted to beg for more. He wonders if Sam's the type to give in if he begs enough. His cock twitches in Sam's hand and Dean alternates between rocking his hips up for more and pushing down into his tongue.

"Tell me when you're close," he breathes, speeding his hand up and pushing harder against Dean's prostate. He's trembling so sweetly in his hand and Sam loves to be the one to make Dean come apart like this. He twists his hand as he strokes Dean, thumbing at the head and smearing precome to slick the way. His tongue works deep, mouth sealed over Dean's hole and sucking hard.

Dean's whole body is trembling now, his legs feeling like they might give up anytime now from holding his weight. Sex has never felt this good, his whimpers and moans flow freely from his mouth now. He doesn't have to worry about getting some guy off first or just lay down and take it as many of his clients like. Sam actually cares about Dean's pleasure. "M'close. F-fuck, so close." 

When Dean speaks, Sam slows down, keeping his touches firm enough to keep Dean right on the edge, but not letting him go over that edge to orgasm. He pulls away to murmur against Dean's skin, "You want it, babe? Tell me. I wanna hear it, Dean." Sam squeezes Dean's cock, giving his ass another firm bite, waiting for him to answer.

Dean should've known Sam was gonna be a tease. Fucker. But if he wants Dean to beg, well, Dean’s not above pleading for his orgasms. It feels different though, not as humiliating as it used to feel "Please." He breathes, dragging a long, shaky moan when Sam squeezes the base of his cock, holding him back. "God, please. Need to come, Samm--" Dean bites down on his lip before the nickname can slip again. He really needs to get that under control.

Sam relents and starts stroking Dean again, hammering against his prostate and licking at him fervently. He can feel Dean's hole shuddering around his fingers and his tongue, can feel his cock twitch and Christ, it's like being wired right into Dean's body. He hums against his rim, burying his face in his pert little ass and giving it all he's got until he can feel Dean losing it. Sam cups his hand so Dean comes into it, and eases him through his orgasm.

"O-oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Dean chants like a mantra, his forehead pressed against the counter so hard, he's sure it's gonna leave a mark. The movements of his hips are off and clumsy, pushing back into Sam's fingers then bucking up into the hand stroking him. "A-ah, right there---" His hole clenches tightly and he finally, finally comes with a cry of Sam's name, accidentally bumping his hip on the edge of the counter in their spamming. He doesn't notice the flare of hot pain through his orgasm though.

Sam stays there for another second, enjoying the shuddering aftershocks. Then his lifts his hand to his mouth and licks some of Dean's come off. He groans, moving his hand to Dean's mouth. "Taste," he orders, easing his other fingers out of Dean's hole. He spins Dean around so he can watch him suck on his fingers, supporting him. Sam smiles broadly. "You're so hot," he exhales, kissing Dean's forehead. "Y'know," he teases, pushing his still-hard cock against Dean's belly, "if you're not too tired, you could...suck something else while you recover."

Dean's lips part willingly for Sam's fingers, tongue swirling around and between the digits to get them clean. Eyes still a little hazy, he looks up at Sam from under his long eyelashes and a smirk stretches across his face, letting the fingers go with a wet sound. "Yeah, what would that be?" His hands tangle in Sam's hair and he pulls him into a deep, bruising kiss with little nips to his lower lip. Once he pulls away, Dean pushes Sam back and gets off the counter and to his knees, kissing and biting on Sam's stomach as he gets his sweatpants off.

Everything Dean does is sexy as hell. Sam groans quietly into the kiss, left breathless as Dean sinks to his knees. He holds his T-shirt up with one hand, the other lacing in Dean's short hair. His abs twitch under Dean's mouth, his cock springing free of his sweatpants when Dean pulls them down. "Um," he manages, remembering Dean asked him something, but not sure what. His eyes are stuck to the other man, watching him trail closer to his cock, heart pumping.

"Are you always this eloquent?" Dean chuckles lowly and leans in to swirl his tongue around the head of Sam's cock, lapping up the bit of precome that's already dripping down the slit. He licks a stripe from tip to base, licking at the soft skin of his balls too before going back up to wrap his lips around the head, tongue digging into the slit as he hollows his cheeks to try and take more of Sam into his mouth.

Sam just lets out a high, distressed noise, eyes glued to Dean's mouth. He looks so good. His lips are all messy and that just makes it hotter. Sam groans, trying to keep from jerking his hips forward. He wants to see what Dean can do, and what he's done so far is amazing. "So good, baby, so fucking hot," he mumbles, massaging his skull. 

Dean hums around Sam's cock, the sounds sending little vibrations through his body. There's a reason clients always pay a little extra for him. He gives amazing blowjobs and yes, that means he can deepthroat. Pressing his tongue against the prominent, pulsing vein on the underside of Sam's twitching dick, Dean looks up at the other, green eyes locking with hazel's as he swallows him down to the base, the head hitting the back of his throat.

Sam's never felt so good in his life. He pants, watching Dean suck him down like it's nothing and–ooooh, god. He's all the way in. He'd in Dean's throat. And Dean's nose is pressed to his navel, looking up at him like that– Sam's hand spasms in Dean's hair, his breath leaving him in rough pants. "You look– _fuck_ , Dean, can I–lemme fuck your face, _please_ –"

Dean's hands are supported on Sam's thighs and he can feel the way they tremble ever so slightly when he sucks him down. Fuck, his spent, soft cock twitches a little when he hears the words. Fuck, he's gonna get hard just from giving head to Sam. Looking up, Dean gives a tiny almost imperceptible nod, his tongue swirling over the head; his hands squeeze the back of Sam's thighs encouragingly.

Sam pushes out a rough breath. As much as Dean's tongue is heavenly, Sam wants to see what he looks like with his cock pumping in and out of his mouth. Sam starts easy, not pushing too deep, just relishing the smooth glide of Dean's pink lips, all swollen now from the abuse. Then it's harder to control himself, his hips giving unconscious little jerks and he's pushing deeper, harder, faster, gripping the back of Dean's head, gasping and groaning. "Squeeze--squeeze my leg if you need me to stop," he breathes, barely letting up to speak.

As soon as Sam takes full advantage of his mouth, gripping the back of Dean's head and tugging at his hair, the blowjob turns a little sloppy, spit dripping down his chin. Dean almost gags a few times, coughing wetly around Sam's length but he powers through it, stroking Sam's thighs instead of squeezing, keeping him from stopping. He's good at giving head but Jesus, Sam's big. Half lidded eyes look up at the other as his mouth's being relentlessly fucked, throat constricting around his cock.

Sam wants to stop when Dean coughs, but he strokes his thighs, so he just slows a little bit to let him catch his breath, then keeps going. Then Dean looks up at him like that, Sam's cock invading his mouth and Sam lets out a string of curses so filthy, his mother must be rolling in her grave. "Jesus--you're _letting_ me--just fuckin'--your _mouth_ \--" Sam rips his cock out of Dean's mouth, gripping the base like a vice and blinking hard, panting roughly. "Fuck, Dean, you're--Jesus." He grips the counter behind Dean, slumped over him and trying to calm himself from the brink of orgasm before he eases his cock back into Dean's wet, warm mouth.

"Keep going." Dean rasps when Sam suddenly pulls out, his words hoarse from having his throat fucked raw. His hands trail from Sam's thighs to his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer to try and coax him to fuck his mouth. "Come down my throat." He wants it, he really wants to taste Sam, to see the way his face flushes and his lips part in a cry when he comes into his mouth. Dean moans once he complies and eases his cock back into his awaiting mouth, his tongue pressing against the slit to lap up the come, letting himself he thoroughly used.

He's so _hungry_ for it, Jesus. Sam inhales shakily, one hand gripping the counter, the other pressing on the back of Dean's head. He pushes himself into his mouth until he's buried, cock all the way in Dean's throat. Then he starts fucking into that silky heat and Sam's pretty sure his eyes are rolling into the back of his head. He groans long and loud, panting swearing and mumbling Dean's name, thrusting like an animal into that perfect, hot, tightness, so--so fucking-- Sam fuckin' _howls_ when he comes, shoving himself as deep as he can go and emptying his load into Dean's perfect, perfect throat. He's completely blind for a moment, all his senses riveted on his dick buried in the most amazing mouth on the planet.

Dean's hard again. After what happened with Alastair and Mark, he didn't think he'd ever _enjoy_ being used like this but after the time they spent together, Dean somehow knew Sam wouldn't hurt him like that. Hell, it was risky at best to let himself trust again, it always ended badly for him but god, it was also relieving to let someone in after years of shutting himself off. Whining around Sam's dick as the other comes, Dean sputters, some of it dripping down his chin and he squeezes his legs to get him to pull off. There are tears blurring his vision and he coughs once Sam gets the hint and pulls off, Dean fighting to catch his breath as he stares dazedly up to him, panting breathlessly.

Sam can just barely compose himself enough to follow Dean's push, pulling out of his mouth-- _he's got come dripping down his chin Sam's gonna faint_ \--and grips the counter, staring down at Dean. "You're--" There aren't even words. Sam's legs give out and he plops gracelessly to his ass in front of Dean, looking completely dazed. He manages a hazy grin, thumbing the tears out of Dean's eyes and kissing his messy mouth slowly, gently. "I love you," Sam sighs giddily, so high on endorphins he can't stop to think about the consequences of saying that. But it's true. He knows it. He loves this ex-druggie hooker who he dragged into his life barely a week ago.

Dean sighs shakily into Sam's mouth, his hands tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. God, how did he go from selling his body in a dirty alley to kissing the most amazing guy he's ever known? And Sam truly is amazing; he's kind, funny and---and he loves Dean, apparently.

He freezes at the words, pulling back to look into the other's eyes. Sam looks so sure of his words but it might just be the high of his orgasm. Yeah, that's it. Licking his lips, Dean kisses him again instead of answering, deepening the kiss and taking one of Sam's hand to guide it down to his still hard cock. "Wanna make me come a second time?" He whispers breathlessly in between kisses.

Dean doesn't say it back, and Sam can't say he's not disappointed, but he understands. It's the heat of the moment. He shouldn't be hasty. But Dean seems content to slide past it, so Sam lets it go.

He grins, breathless, when Dean finally breaks the kiss. "I promised you three," he murmurs, smirking. He gives Dean's cock a squeeze before scooping him up and carrying him to their (their!) bedroom. "You got hard from letting me fuck your face like a madman?"

"We're halfway there." Dean grins widely and manages not to yelp when Sam picks him up. He's getting used to it. Wrapping his legs around Sam's waist, Dean grips Sam's hair as he kisses him hard, breath hitching slightly when they fall on the bed. "Mhm, you were really hot. Fucked my throat raw, just like I asked you to." He murmurs, taking Sam's lower lip between his teeth and tugging at the sensitive, slightly swollen flesh.

Sam snorts, crawling over Dean, making a small noise when he bites his lip. " _You_ were really hot. Is your throat okay?" he asks a little sheepishly, noticing Dean sounds a bit raspy. He kisses Dean's neck, looking down at his cock. "Hmm... I've eaten you out, I've fucked you, I've kind of blown you... How else can I make you come? Suggestions? Comments? Concerns?" Sam jokes.

Deane chuckles, dragging Sam back up to kiss him again and licking apologetically over the spot he bit. "You could let me fuck you this time." He suggests with a shrug and rolls them over so he's on top of Sam, starting to trail kisses down his neck and to his chest. "Let me come inside of you. You ever been fucked, Sam?"

Sam blinks, swallowing. He's not entirely sold on the idea. He's been with lots of dudes, sure, but it's never really occurred to him to be the one to take it. "Um, no," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his head. He looks up at Dean where he's sitting on top of him and rubs his thighs a little nervously. "But I mean...I guess we can try it. I mean, you seem to enjoy it a lot." Sam squeezes Dean's thighs, nodding resolutely. "Yeah, we can do that."

Dean's grin falters at Sam's reaction. He doesn't seem too keen on the idea and honestly, that's fine. There are guys that are strictly tops, guys that are strictly bottoms and there are guys like Dean who can be a little flexible. He's not gonna push though, he's perfectly content with being the one to take it.

Shaking his head, Dean crawls back up to kiss Sam again. "We don't have to." His hand trails down to cup Sam's dick, taking his own in his hand too and stroking them together.

Sam jerks when Dean grabs his dick, letting out a small noise of pain. "Sorry. Still sensitive. Gimme a minute." He takes Dean's cock in his hand, stroking him leisurely and kissing him, tugging on his hair. Sam pulls back smiling, and then his face goes a little more serious. "Honestly. You can fuck me. I've just...never done it before." He inhales, flushes a little, and gives Dean a grin. "I feel...virginal. Like I don't know what I'm doing. But I do. You do. I wanna try it. C'mon, let's do it."

Dean pulls his hand away with a half-murmured apology, sighing softly into the kiss. He doesn't know why he's so hesitant, so nervous when Sam says that he wants to try it. Maybe it's because Dean knows that Sam's not just a client, he's more than that and this is his first and Dean doesn't want to ruin that. He wants it to be good. Nodding slowly, Dean ducks down to kiss him again and swipes his tongue gently over his lower lip. "Can I rim you?" He whispers against his lips when they pull back, foreheads pressed together.

Sam grins, stealing one more kiss from Dean before answering. "Y-yeah, that sounds great." He grabs the back of Dean's head and kisses him one more time, fiercely, before gently pushing him off and sitting up. "Um, hands and knees?" He rolls into position, feeling odd. It's not a position he's usually in, but he's seen it plenty from a different angle. Sam chuckles a little at the thought, looking over his shoulder at Dean. He gives his ass a little wiggle, flushing. "Is this what you do? You know what your ass does to me, Dean Winchester?"

Dean gets on his knees on the bed and watches as Sam gets to his hands and knees, not being able to help himself as he leans down and nips at one cheek, laughing huskily at the jerk and yelp that come from Sam and kissing the spot. "You know what your ass is doing to me right now, Wesson?" He shoots back and spreads Sam's cheeks to the cool air of the room, watching that tiny, little pink hole clench. Fuuuck, if he hadn't done this before he would be worried about getting his cock in such a tiny little thing, but he has experience and he knows it'll stretch. Pressing a feather light kiss to Sam's hole, Dean flattens his tongue and presses it against the wrinkled skin, giving a little kitten lick.

Sam shoots Dean a flush-faced glare when he bites him, settling grumbling after. He squirms as Dean spreads his ass, his hole instinctively tightening at the cold. He shivers a little at the kiss; it's ticklish. Sam makes a small, shocked noise when Dean licks him, despite expecting it. It's...weird. Nice, kinda tingly. But wet and weird. The farthest Sam as ever gotten with his asshole was that one time Jess was blowing him and snuck her thumb inside him, searching for his prostate. She didn't find it. But Dean knows what he's doing. Sam huffs, locking his elbows and trying to get his muscles to relax.

Dean starts slowly, letting Sam get used to what he's sure right now is a weird sensation to him. He licks a wet stripe from his hole down to his balls, rolling them with his tongue before he's back up to licking at his rim. Fuck and the sounds Sam's started making are enough to have his cock twitching. Dean's hands grip his cheeks, spreading him completely open and burying his face in Sam's ass, sealing his mouth over his now slick hole and sucking.

Sam groans quietly when Dean sucks on his balls, his back arching some. He whines with embarrassment when Dean spreads him again, but it's quickly turned into a moan when Dean sucks on his rim. He looks over his shoulder and the sight that greets him makes him shudder. God, Dean looks good like that. "Feels good," he mumbles, letting his head hang, shoulders pushing high.

One of Dean's hands trail down to Sam's hardening cock, thumbing at the head gently before pulling away. He thins his tongue as much as he can and starts pushing the top of it inside Sam's body, sucking noisily and messily. He wants to get him as wet as he can before he tries with fingers and he knows they'll still need lube but fuck, the sounds Sam's making right now make it all worth it.

Sam exhales, his hips tipping for Dean’s hand. That's more familiar, and he slides his eyes shut, enjoying the feeling. Sam wriggles in discomfort as Dean's tongue starts to push inside his hole, but what gets him are the _noises_. God, he can feel spit sliding down his balls. He groans from deep in his lungs, dropping his chest to the mattress and burying his face in his arms.

Dean slowly eases his tongue out, his hand going back to stroking Sam's cock before trying to push his tongue back in, wiggling it around inside of Sam. He keeps licking and sucking, squeezing the base of his cock when he feels he might be close, holding him back. Dean pulls his tongue out with one last drag of his tongue over Sam's quivering hole before he straightens up and reaches for the lube in Sam's drawer. "M'gonna stretch you now, okay?" He murmurs, kissing behind Sam's ear before getting back in position, coating his fingers and Sam's hole in lube.

Sam finally managed to get into it, moaning and riding up on his hands again and rocking his ass back on Dean's tongue. He really knows what he's doing. He can feel his hole twitching once Dean pulls away, feeling a little empty without Dean's tongue. It's odd, and not entirely unpleasant. "Mmmm," Sam mumbles, tipping his head happily at the kiss and shifting his knees when Dean's fingers start circling his rim. Okay. He can do this. He does his best to relax, watching Dean over his shoulder.

"Just try and stay relaxed." Dean keeps pressing kisses down Sam's spine as he slowly circles his rim, starting to suck a mark on his neck as he slips the first finger in, just his fingertip. This is where he has to be really patient and be aware of Sam's reactions so he knows when to slow down or stop. Dean wasn't as lucky his first time and he spent the entire day crying, balled up in a fetal position with blood dripping down his thighs. It's important to him that Sam's first time bottoming turns out to be nothing like that. He waits until Sam's clenched hole gives in and starts slowly slipping more of his finger inside, nipping at his ear at the same time.

Sam pushes out a breath, trying not to focus on the feeling of Dean's fingers too much. It's a weird intrusion, but not quiet painful yet. He keeps his attention on Dean's mouth instead, tipping his head and enjoying the nip of his teeth. He slips a hand down to play with his cock as a distraction, his face twisting briefly as Dean pushes deeper. "Is it always this...slow?" Sam asks with a huff of a laugh, looking back at Dean. "Thanks for being so patient with me," he adds, smaller, flushing.

Dean lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when his whole finger slips in. He blushes when Sam mentions the slow pace though he tones down the glare when he thanks him in a smaller voice. "Shut up." Dean grumbles but leans down to kiss him deeply, his tongue licking into his mouth as he wiggles his finger around, giving Sam some time to adjust to the intrusion before starting to push a second finger in.

"I didn't mean–mmh." Sam meets Dean's tongue, sighing into his mouth. He lets out a decidedly unmanly squeak when Dean presses that second finger against his rim. Just when he thought he'd gotten used to that first finger wiggling around inside him. He pushes out a breath, grumbling under his breath. "You're enjoying this," he accuses, giving Dean a faux-irritated like. "This is retribution for bruising your throat. You get to watch me squirm while you wiggle your fingers around in my asshole."

Dean smirks and bites down on Sam's lip, effectively shutting him up as he starts thrusting his fingers in carefully, stretching him patiently. "Well, it's only fair and it is fun to watch you squirm." He teases and kisses Sam before he can respond, sucking on his tongue before pulling back with a grin, crooking one finger inside to try and find Sam's prostate. That will surely help him relax.

Dean has him wrapped around his pinky finger–well, probably his index and middle fingers, but the point stands. He's playing Sam like a harp. He moans into Dean's mouth, huffing at the loss and then jerking when Dean touches something inside him. It shoots a little spark up his spine, nothing earth-shattering–but it has the potential to be. "Is–is that my–" Sam trails off, wiggling his hips and trying to get Dean to do it again. He can still feel the stretch of his fingers and it _hurts_ , but that nice little spot did a great job distracting him.

"Found it." Dean grins in satisfaction and taps Sam's prostate again, pressing more firmly on that little bundle of nerves as he slowly slips a third finger in and it slips more easily now. Gripping Sam's chin with his free hand, Dean turns his head to kiss him hard, his tongue seeking for the other's as he teases Sam's sweet spot mercilessly, groaning into his mouth at the noises he's making. Fuck, that's hot. He can't wait to bury himself in the warm, tight heat of Sam's body.

Sam shudders as Dean rubs his prostate dead-on, his mouth going slack for a moment before he thinks to kiss Dean back. Even then he has to break for breath, trembling under the assault. A wild moan break from his lips and Sam slumps his chest down to the mattress, hiding his face in his arms. God, that feels amazing, and it's sapping what little control he has left of his vocal cords. His hips twitch back towards Dean, his cock bobbing, hard and starting to drip.

He could make him come just like this, just keep rubbing his prostate until he reaches the edge but god, Dean wants to fuck him. With one last brush to Sam's prostate, Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, watching his hole clench at the loss for a moment before he breaks from his trance. "Lay down. S'better if you're on your stomach for the first time." Dean murmurs, threading his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair and pushing gently on his back, coaxing him to lie down.

It's beyond him not to whine when Dean pulls his fingers out. Sam flushes (like his face can get any pinker) and clears his throat, his ass feeling weirdly empty. He follows Dean's hands and lays on his belly, legs spread comfortably, hips tilted up. He props himself up on his elbows, watching Dean over his shoulder, trying to calm his nerves. As girly as it is, he wants to _see_ Dean.

“Wait," he says, smiling a little when Dean freezes. "Next to my nightstand, just slide it out from behind, there's a mirror. It goes in my headboard. I took it out because it used to freak me out when I went to bed stoned, but–and this position is fine, I like it and you said it's good, but I, um, and this is why we can just put the mirror back in right here, I, uh, I wanna, um...see you," he finishes in an embarrassed mutter. Sam's a little curious to see what he himself looks like too, getting fucked.

Dean's just about to spread Sam's cheeks again when suddenly Sam's telling him to wait and he freezes, though the little smile puts him at ease. He listens intently, tries and also miserably fails when he tries to push away his thoughts of how cute Sam looks when he's nervously rambling, the blush on his face making him look so much younger and vulnerable and suddenly the roles are reversed and Dean feels protective. He might be a sap and a freaking girl but he's gonna make this special for Sam.

Smiling at the quiet admission, Dean leans down and kisses him softly. Oh god, this is dangerous. These feelings of warmth and feeling completely content here with Sam, they're too overwhelming. He gets the mirror and places it in the headboard, making sure Sam can see him before spreading his cheeks, biting down on his lip as he presses the head of his cock against Sam's hole, slowly pushing in.

Sam smiles into the kiss, but all too soon, Dean's pulling away. He makes eye contact with him in the mirror, watching his face intently. He's so focused on Dean's face that he hardly notices the first push. But then he does notice it and he lets out a hurt little, " _Oh_ ," because Dean feels a lot bigger like this, definitely bigger than three fingers. Sam presses his face into the sheets and pushes out a breath, forcing his body to relax with the exhale. Dean will make him feel good. Like he did before. He peeks up, trust and affection written on his face, watching how much Dean seems to be enjoying his ass.

Holy shit, it's tight. Really fucking tight. Dean hasn't fucked a virgin ass in a while, he forgot how good it feels. Eyes closing for a second, Dean bites down on his lip to hold back his groan and opens his eyes just in time to catch Sam's trusting look. Stay in track, Winchester. He can't just pound away, he has to make sure Sam's enjoying it too, first. "Relax. M'gonna go slow." He leans down to pepper kisses behind his ear and down to the back of his neck as the head of his dick slips in, staying still as he hears Sam take deep breaths, only starting to push again when he feels Sam start to relax a little under his kisses.

It's not really a good feeling yet. It kind of feels like a really slow, reverse shit. Sam's a little embarrassed by how long this is taking–he should just man up and take it–but he also appreciates Dean's patience. He tips his head into Dean's attention, inhaling and exhaling shakily. Alright. It doesn't hurt that much. It's just a weird, achey kind of stretch. "I have a dick in my ass," Sam breathes a little disbelievingly. He gives Dean a little grin in the mirror, watching his face twitch with pleasure. "You feel good?"

Dean laughs slightly breathlessly at Sam's words, the sound trailing off into a groan, now halfway buried inside of Sam. "I have a very tight ass wrapped around my dick and it feels amazing." He grins and kisses behind his ear again. "Just give it a second. It'll start feeling good for you, too." Dean breathes, staying still got a minute before he feels Sam's relaxed enough to start slowly moving.

Sam relaxes when Dean holds halfway inside him, getting used to the stretch. It's a little more pleasant now, and the thought of Dean inside him helps keep him hard against the mattress. Sam exhales roughly, when Dean starts moving, shuddering. The friction–"Feels nice," he breathes, arching his back.

"Yeah?" Eyes fluttering shut at the warm heat that envelops him, Dean starts with slow thrusts, Sam's body rocking gently against the mattress. "God, so fucking tight." He breathes, a moan leaving his lips. Dean then shifts the angle a little bit without moving too much, trying to find Sam's prostate. It takes him a while but eventually Sam's back is arching and _fuck_ , the sounds Sam starts making.

Sam pants quietly as Dean grinds against him in slow pushes, listening to him breathe. God, Dean sounds so good, stretches him nice. He wiggles his hips to help Dean find his prostate, opening his mouth to help direct him when he slides against it. Sam lets out a high noise, dropping his head. "Ooooh, right there," he exhales, moaning with each strike. His toes dig into the mattress, hitching his hips higher. Sam manages to lift his head to meet Dean's eyes, his own expression slack, lost in pleasure.

The mirror turns out to be a really good idea because seeing Sam's blissed expression, those pretty pink lips parting with every moan and half lidded eyes locking with his own send Dean into some kind of frenzy. Dropping his forehead to Sam's back and reaching for Sam's hands, pinning them up against the mattress, Dean laces their fingers as his thrusts get deeper, hitting the other's prostate dead in with every push. "Fuuuck..." He moans, biting down on the back of his neck.

Sam hadn't realized before this that he might get off in being held down. But shiiiit. He rocks his hips back against Dean's thrusts as best as he can, his breath hitching in embarrassing moans with each thrust. "Holy shii-ii-ii-it," Sam drags out, the word catching with each shove against his prostate. "Deeper," he grunts, looking over his shoulder. "I wanna feel all of you."

Dean's biting down hard enough to leave a mark and the thought that Sam's gonna wear his mark makes something snap inside of him, something possessive. He growls deep inside his throat, his thrusts getting deeper and harder, his grip tightening on Sam's hands as he holds him down and fucks into him mercilessly. Dean leans down to nip at his earlobe and tugs at the sensitive skin. "C'mon, come on my cock, Sam."

Sam's eyes snap wide as Dean _pounds_ into him, crying out shamelessly. His shoulder pulses where Dean bit him and it's definitely bruised and he's so close to coming. He wants to get a hand under himself to stroke his cock, but it's trapped against the mattress and he realizes he doesn't even have to because Dean's cock is more than enough. His feet scrabble against the mattress, upper body pinned, his hips working desperately and then he's coming like a fucking freight train, howling through it, eyes wide and blind and locked on the mirror.

"Mine." He's so high on the pleasure, on Sam's tight hole clenching around him as the other comes that he doesn't stop to think about the word that slipped in a low growl from his lips, hips pumping erratically as he chases his orgasm. Dean looks up into the mirror and Sam's expression is what pushes him over the edge, burying his face in Sam's shoulder with a loud grunt of the other's name as he comes inside of him, hands interlocking with Sam's, riding it out with deep, sharp thrusts.

Dean's growl almost escapes Sam in his high, but it shivers down his spine, taking root in the heat in his belly. He manages a couple more shaking sounds of pleasure as Dean empties inside, rocking his whole body with his thrusts. Sam pants, still blinking his vision back, still trying to become coherent enough to speak. The weight of Dean's body, the _possessing_ stretch of his cock, his hands locked around Sam's, all so fucking overwhelming. Sam drops his forehead to the sheets, his shoulder jutting, shuddering as he rides the aftershocks. "That...wasn't so bad," he breathes, lifting his head to give Dean a tired grin and a wink in the mirror.

It takes Dean's brain a moment to process Sam's words, huffing and biting teasingly on the mark he left on his shoulder before licking over the bruised skin soothingly. He's still buried deep inside Sam as he drops his chin and turns his face to kiss him deeply. "You loved it." He smirks smugly and loosens his grip on Sam's hands. "M'gonna pull out now." He makes sure to warn Sam before slowly starting to pull out, come dripping slightly down Sam's thighs as he does.

Sam chuckles, humming happily into the kiss. He makes a noise of discomfort as Dean pulls out, leaving his come to ooze out. It feels... slutty. Sam flushes. He twists on his side, snatching Dean by the waist and yanking him against his side, burying his face in his hair. "So...'yours', huh?" he teases.

Dean rolls on his side, humming contentedly as Sam buries his face in his hair. He blushes at the words though. Okay, so he definitely heard. Shit. Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Dean shrugs and looks away. "I um...heat of the moment?" Dean offers as sort of an explanation but the mark in Sam's shoulder is still stirring up all kind of possessive feelings inside of him. Fuck. "I didn't...I mean, we are together, right?" He tries for a small smile, looking into hazel eyes.

Sam wiggling his hips a little bit. His ass feels empty now. It's a weird feeling. Sam shrugs and kisses Dean's forehead. "Ish? I mean you said..." Sam just chuckles and shakes his head into Dean's hair. "Don't worry about it, babe. Didn't mean to put you on the spot. Just teasin'." He yawns and holds Dean tighter. Honestly, he's too sleepy to bother thinking about the complexity of their relationship right now.

Dean's smile falters a little with uncertainty. Sam's words only work to confuse him even more. What does he want? He watches the other yawn and pecks his lips softly before pulling away and nuzzling his neck. Dean waits until Sam's breath evens out to let the smile fall off his face, turning on his back to stare up at the ceiling with a troubled expression. Fuck Sam. Okay, he actually really likes him, really _really_ does and shit, he shouldn't be trying to figure out feelings and shit

He’s in trouble


	3. Chapter 3

Sam wakes early, stretching and groaning at the soreness in his ass. God. Dean. He watches his sleeping face, his own expression full of affection. Yesterday was a rollercoaster. His 'I love you' and then Dean's 'mine'... Sam kind of brushed him off about that. He frowns. He should've...talked it out a little more. He'd just been so dazed from the sex.

Sam sighs, his eyes tracing down Dean's body. Sam rolls on top of him, pressing his half-hard morning wood against his ass and kissing the back of his neck. Once he hears Dean suck in a breath, he whispers in his ear, "I owe you one more orgasm."

Dean grumbles in his sleep, blinking his eyes open slowly when he feels something hard pressing against his ass, something wet down his neck. Sam. His breath hitches at the insistent pressing and Dean turns his head to lock eyes with Sam, a sleepy little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are you waiting for, then?" He whispers and catches Sam's lips in a lazy, slow kiss. He doesn't want to think about what was said yesterday, doesn’t want to deal with feelings. He just wants this.

Sam chuckles, fitting himself between Dean's cheeks and rubbing his cock back and forth. Fuck. That feels really nice. He could come just from that. He pulls Dean on his side, rutting against him slowly and wandering a hand over to tweak his nipples. Pretty, pretty Dean. Sam sucks on the back of his neck, the head of his cock catching on Dean's hole a couple times. Dean's probably stretched enough from yesterday, right?

Dean's breathing gets heavier with each slide of Sam's cock between his cheeks, his hands clutching the sheets each time the head catches on his rim. A gasp tumbles from his lips when Sam tweaks his nipples, the pink nubs hardening under the attention. "A-ah, Sam..." His eyes flutter shut, pushing his ass back. He's still stretched and slick from yesterday. "Fuck me." Dean breathes, one hand trailing down to his cock.

Sam shudders at all the little noises Dean makes, pinching his nipple again to see the reaction. He hums when Dean arches into him, giving one cheek a little squeeze. "In a minute," he murmurs, sucking patiently on the back of Dean's neck. When he feels Dean's arm move down, he snatches his wrists, pressing their palms to Dean's belly. "No. Your cock is just for me to touch," he murmurs, giving a hard thrust between Dean's cheeks.

Dean whimpers at the pinch, his chest rising up into Sam's hand, silently asking for more. "I don't wanna wait a minute." He pants slightly, his body rocking forward with a dragged out whine at the hard thrust, his fingers curling around Sam's hands in his belly. "M'still stretched from yesterday. Please." Dean turns his head to try and catch Sam's lips in a kiss when he feels him pull back from sucking on his neck.

Sam catches Dean's bottom lip between his teeth instead of kissing him, tugging on it and then releasing. "Mm, so pretty when you say please," Sam murmurs. His hand brushes down to give Dean's cock a squeeze, then he pushes him over on to his belly, in the same position Dean had him in yesterday. He sinks his cock into him in a smooth motion, groaning and dropping his head to kiss over his back. He braces his hands on Dean's waist, keeping him down as he grind slow and patient inside him. God, Dean's so...so _willing_.

Dean hums and manages a grin up at Sam as he lets go of his lower lip. "Only for you." Which is a total lie because he's begged countless times for guys who meant nothing to him. Dean pushes that thought aside and focuses on Sam though, letting a moan loose when he squeezes his cock, willingly rolling over onto his belly. A little sound that's a mix between a content sigh and a grunt falls from his mouth when Sam finally slips inside, Dean's hands gripping the sheets, face pressed into the pillow as he pushes back to meet his slow thrusts. He doesn't want the pace to change, he wants to come just like this, his cock dragging against the mattress as Sam gently fucks into him.

Sam spreads his knees to bracket Dean's, elbows settling by his ribs as he rolls deep, patient thrusts into him, letting his pleasure build like the heat of the sun on his skin on a warm day. His lips travel reverently across Dean's shoulders, tracing galaxies of freckles. "You're so beautiful," he sighs, nudging the back of Dean's head with his nose. "Look at me," he says quietly, keeping his voice low so he doesn't break this shy, early-morning haze. He stills, pressed as deep in Dean as he can get, looking in the mirror and waiting for him to look.

Dean's whole body is flushed, making the freckles stand out, even more so by the early morning light seeping through the half-closed blinds. It's almost unreal. Sam's thrusts are deep and slow and Dean can't believe that every time he's with Sam, it just gets better. He can't believe he has this; this...lazy, gentle moment at morning, in a warm bed with a guy who...might love him? It doesn't make sense. Exhaling a shaky breath, Dean looks up at Sam's command and locks eyes with him in the mirror and his own are full of trust and he can't put the walls back up because they've all fallen for Sam.

Dean's eyes look... _open_. Vulnerable. Sam thought Dean was vulnerable the first time they fucked, but this is... _trust_. It takes his breath away. He exhales into Dean's hair, kissing his head. He reaches a hand down to curl around Dean's hip, tugging his body back in time to match his easy grind. Sam adjusts his angle so he slides against Dean's prostate rather than pound against it. Dean's body is trembling under his, lamb-weak and it almost makes him feel smaller. It makes Sam wanna protect him from the world.

Dean's hand goes to the back of Sam's head, gripping his hair as he's pulled up and against his chest, his eyes closed and his pink lips parted in an endless stream of moans. The slow, teasing slide against his prostate has him trembling under Sam's body, sparks of pleasure coursing through his body and building up the heat in his belly. He's close, oh god, he's so close and he needs Sam's hand on him. "Touch me."

Dean's trembling to pieces in his hands and it's gorgeous. Sam pulls Dean up so they're on their knees, upright, Sam's front flush against Dean's back, his hips working in circles into Dean's ass. His mouth is glued to Dean's neck, sucking patiently. He can feel Dean's hole shuddering around his cock and he finally relents, sliding a hand slowly down his stomach, teasing him, before circling his cock firmly and stroking him with his whole hand, long fingers and a big palm.

Dean's positively falling apart under Sam's body, his body trembling and his chest heaving with every breath he takes as Sam sucks on his neck, perfectly on time with each thrust. Moaning loudly when Sam's hand finally starts stroking his dripping cock, Dean tries to push up into his hand, at the same time that he tries and meet his thrusts.

It doesn't really take much after that for Dean to come with a trembling gasp and a chant of Sam's name whispered almost reverently, his body going still through his orgasm before it relaxes and he almost falls over on the bed, the only thing keeping him upright being Sam's arm wrapped around his chest.

That warm-sunny-day-on-his-skin feeling isn't intensifying so much as it is spreading as Dean shivers closer to orgasm. Sam sucks in a breath when Dean comes apart, mumbling his name, and the feeling completes its journey to the tips of Sam's toes and the top of his head and the squeeze of _Dean_ around him has him chasing right after. He squeezes Dean's middle tightly, groaning into his neck and burying himself as he comes, tingles sweeping through his body several more times. It's profound, somehow.

Sam exhales unsteadily, lowering them carefully to their sides, avoiding the mess Dean made, keeping his dick tucked inside Dean even as he softens. It's so warm inside him and he really doesn't wanna leave. He curls around Dean's back, holding him close and pressing kisses to the marks he left. "Good morning," he murmurs sleepily.

Dean falls to his side, letting Sam lower him down and humming as he curls around his back, smiling softly at the kisses being left on the marks on his neck and back. He turns to plant a kiss on Sam's lips and pulls back with a wide grin. "Good morning, indeed."

Chuckling, Dean reaches down with one hand to take Sam's in his own. The other's gone soft but Dean doesn’t want him to pull out, not yet, he doesn't want to stop feeling so...connected to him. God, he must look like a schoolgirl with a pathetic crush and honestly, that's how he feels right now.

Sam presses their joined hands to Dean's belly, sighing contently against his neck. He could totally fall asleep again. But Dean's gonna start feeling sticky soon and Sam's finally starting to notice the stickiness of Dean's come between his legs from last night. He gives his hips a little wiggle, grinning against Dean's neck. "Think we could just stay like this until I get hard again? Could fuck you again without pulling out." He can feel his come seeping out between them, and it makes him briefly think that they should play with toys. Plugs, handcuffs, blindfolds. Sam pushes the thought aside firmly, shaking himself fully awake and planting a kiss on Dean's neck. "Okay. We should shower."

Dean makes a soft, surprised noise when Sam wiggles his hips. He's starting to feel Sam's come dripping down and god, it's so fucking filthy. He loves it. Humming, Dean turns his face and goes to press a kiss to Sam's lips but the other ducks down to kiss his neck then and Dean ends up with his lips pressed to Sam's forehead. He pulls away with a slightly sheepish smile and bites down on his lower lip, nodding at the next words. "A shower sounds better right now. You can always fuck me later again." He pats Sam's thigh. "C'mon, pull out."

Sam grumbles unhappily, reaching down to play with Dean's rim for a moment before he finally lets his cock slip out. He shivers. It's cold outside Dean. He wraps himself tightly around the other for a moment, squeezing him hard and his chest throbs. God, this is so...romantic and cutesy and--and he hasn't had anything like this since Jess. It makes his chest ache something deep, but it's...good. God. He hopes Dean wants to stick around. "Fine," he finally mutters, releasing Dean and rolling to his feet. He stretches with a groan, fingertips brushing the ceiling.

Dean shivers when Sam's cock finally slips out, his hole feeling tender and sensitive. He takes a moment to recover before sitting up and getting off the bed, grinning when he turns to see Sam stretching. "Jesus, how tall are you?" Dean chuckles and shakes his head, wrapping his arms from behind Sam and kissing behind his ear. He's acting really.. couple-y, he knows, but he doesn't care at the time and he damn sure won't acknowledge it. "How old are you?" Dean asks suddenly, hands coming to rest on Sam's belly, idly stroking along his skin.

"Twenty-two. And I'm six-four or six-five, I dunno." Sam grins when he realizes he answered the questions backwards. "Twenty-two feet tall and six-five years old." He rests his hands over Dean's, humming to himself. "How old are you?" Dean's probably his age, maybe older, but he doesn't look it. It's the freckles. Dean's cute, hugging him behind and kissing him. Sam turns in his arms and sweeps him off his feet, grinning and kissing him firmly. "You're cute," he says firmly, winking. He kisses Dean's nose and carries him to the bathroom.

"Twenty-two feet tall?" Dean grins, chuckling at Sam's answers. Man, six-five, that's certainly tall, it makes Dean feel like a midget next to Sam. Just as he's about to answer Sam's question, the other's actually sweeping him off of his feet and carrying him to the shower. Honestly, he should be disgruntled, not finding this incredibly hot. Fucking Sam Wesson and his giant frame and strong arms. "I'm twenty-six, therefore not cute at all. That title belongs to you, college boy."

"I beg to differ. You're the one with freckles." He grins and kisses Dean one more time before letting him down, starting the shower. It's not big--hell, sometimes Sam has trouble fitting by himself--but that just means they'll have to stand close. Which isn't a problem.

He pushes Dean against the counter and kisses him, hands wandering over his sides. Agh, it's just...so hard to keep his hands off Dean. Sam doesn't know what it is, but it's something warm and broad and maybe he really does love Dean. Jesus. Sam clears his throat, kissing Dean one more time before he leads him into the shower, under the hot water.

"Shut up." Dean has always hated his freckles. Sam's not the first one to talk about them and after so many guys compliment you on something while shoving their cocks down your throat, you end up hating that part of yourself. Maybe Sam can change that though. "You're the one with dimples." He grins, licking his lips right after they pull back from their kiss, Dean's body still tingling slightly from it.

He follows Sam under the hot water and breathes a sigh of relief, shoulders rolling and his head tipping back as he closes his eye with an exhale. So long since he's had a nice, warm shower. "Oh, I'm definitely staying here, if only for the water pressure."

Sam smiles, grabbing the shampoo and gently working it into Dean's hair, careful not to get it in his eyes. He traces some of the marks he left on Dean's neck, brows pushing down. Something's been on his mind the last couple days, but he just...hasn't worked up the balls to bring it up. "Um..." he starts, then goes quiet for too long. "Uh, so, are you...gonna keep working?" He clears his throat, rubbing Dean's shoulders. "I mean, I--I'm not tryna Pretty Woman you, but you...you said you were basically forced into it and I can't imagine it's a job you enjoy..."

Dean tilts his head back into the touch, closing his eyes so no shampoo will get in his eyes, shivering slightly every time Sam's hands trace his marks. He hums absently to let Sam know he's listening, shoulders relaxing under the touch. His eyes snap back open though when he hears the words, turning slightly to face Sam. "I wasn't forced. Not really. I mean, sure Alastair and..." Dean takes a deep breath before forcing himself to continue "...and Mark started me on it but I was making good money, I decided to stay there." He shrugs and steps into the stream of water to rinse his hair. "Don't worry, I won't bring any clients here."

Sam opens and closes his mouth, tipping his head in acknowledgement. He helps Dean rinse his hair out, grabbing a soft washcloth to clean the come away from his hole. "I know you won't do that. I just..." Sam huffs a laugh, looking down at Dean. "I guess it makes me a little jealous, not that I have...any right to be, I guess, and not that that should stop you. Mostly I just wanna make sure you're safe. And...okay, y'know." He hates the idea of anybody treating Dean like he's anything less than a perfect angel sculpted by the hand of God himself. Hell, maybe even Sam's not good enough for Dean, but he tries. "Hell, I'll play pimp for you, or--or fucking tag along and we'll sell threesomes, I dunno," he huffs, shaking his head at how ridiculous it is. "I just wanna protect you."

"We'll sell threesomes? Really?" Dean turns to Sam with raised eyebrows and an amused grin but his gaze softens at those last words. Sighing, Dean fully turns his body so they're pressed chest to chest, his hands trailing up to tangle in Sam's wet hair.

"Look, I have to take some time off anyway. Nobody wants to buy if the merchandise's bruised and...I also don't wanna run into Mark again." He takes a deep breath and manages a small smile for Sam, fingers absently scratching his scalp gently. "But apart from that little incident, I can look out for myself. I've been doing this for years now. I'll be fine." Stopping is not an option. Sure, he doesn't exactly enjoy it but what else can he do? He dropped out of high school and never went to college. He has to make money somehow.

Sam sighs and kisses him softly, his heart aching. He doesn't like Dean being treated like a commodity. "Y'know, there's lots of stuff you can do for work besides prostitution. I mean, you won't make as much, but you won't have to...sell your body."

Sam blinks, grabbing Dean's shoulders and grinning. "Hey, listen, I'm taking this intermediate art class and my professor keeps talking about needing a nude model for us to draw. I mean, you're gorgeous and not shy and the school pays like fifty or sixty bucks for each class. Sixty bucks to sit still, naked, for an hour in front of a bunch of over-sexed twenty-somethings. It might be more dangerous than prostitution," Sam says with false sobriety. He gets serious after a minute, though, rubbing Dean's shoulders. "Seriously, if you ever decide...you don't wanna do it anymore, there's lots of jobs around campus. And I have a full ride for myself and my dependents, so if you married me, you could go to school here." He winks at Dean, giving his ass a playful squeeze.

"Whoa, okay. Slow down there, tiger." Dean's amused grin is slowly being replaced by a disbelieving look. "We're already talking marriage?" It's said in a joking tone but the speed in which Sam's throwing all this stuff at him is enough to make his head spin and his hands sweat. Model? College? What happened to just going with it? An art class does sound better than blowing guys for money but...Dean's kind of scared. Not that he'll admit that in front of Sam.

"I can't...you're already giving me a place to stay, which I'll pay for, in cash." He hurries to clarify, his hands sliding down to rest on Sam's shoulders. "Now you wanna give me a job as some model for your class? I-I mean...why?" They've been together, if Dean can even call it that for less than two weeks. "I'm just some hooker you randomly picked off the street."

Sam exhales. Dean's right. He's probably overwhelming him. He can't expect to completely flip his life in a day. His mouth twists into a frown when Dean finishes.

"You're so much more than that, Dean," Sam murmurs, his brows pushing together. "And I know I don't--I haven't known you for long. But you're smart. You're funny. You're interesting and talented and confident and you just--blow me away. And I know that's intense, but let me tell you something. I haven't gotten high once since you started living here. I haven't wanted to. You just--" Sam sighs. He can't find the words to explain how he simultaneously wants to keep Dean forever and knows he has no right to. "You don't have to pay me back for staying with me. It's no trouble. And I'm not _giving_ you a job. I'm telling you about an opening that you could've easily found on your own if you had time to look. I just--I care about you," Sam sighs, peeking up. He's probably being too gushy about this, but he just...he wants Dean to understand.

"Yeah, because all I do during my free time is search for jobs at a university campus." Dean decides to lead and mainly focus on that part instead of all those other things Sam said about him. Jesus, why would he care about Dean that way? He's just...they're not...fuck, this is exactly the kind of thoughts he did not want to deal with.

Taking a step back and effectively backing up against the wall, Dean chews nervously on his lower lip. "I'm not staying here for free and I'm not staying here forever." The words sound like the end of something good he could've had but it's also too overwhelming. It feels like Sam wants to change his whole life in one day and Dean can't bring himself to just take all that; a place to live and a...a relationship, a chance. He's scared. In a way, he already trusts Sam and that's terrifying. Trust never lead him anywhere good. "Just...until I can get back on my feet. That's what we originally agreed on."

For the barest of moments, Sam's face crumples and the breath leaves his lungs. He's crossed a line and now Dean is realizing Sam's become way too attached in these last couple days. He's pulling away, and understandably.

"Right," Sam says quietly, rearranging his face to stoicism. He turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a towel for himself and leaving one on the counter for Dean. God, he's so stupid. Falling head over heels for a hooker. A part of him briefly, hysterically, cynically considers that Dean seduced him and used him for his apartment, but no. This can't have all been a lie. Just Sam, lying to himself, thinking this could be more than...more than a port in a storm.

"Sam..." He's stepping out of the shower before Dean can say anything else and he hurries after him, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his waist. He hadn't meant for it to come out that way, to be so abrupt. He hated the way Sam's face crumpled only to turn into a stoic mask the next second.

"I have work," Sam says mechanically, drying off quickly and getting dressed. He rifles through that top shelf in his closet, grabbing a baggie of weed and his piece and shoving them in his pocket. "Food in the fridge. Beer if you want it. Key's by the door if you go out. Back by two or three," Sam says, voice distant, like he's talking to a stranger. He hates it. He sweeps out the door before Dean can say anything, knuckling his forehead. Stupid, stupid.

"Sam, wait--" Dean reaches out but the other's already dressed and with a bag of weed in his hand, brushing past him and out the door. They'd been having a good day so far and Dean had to go and ruin it, letting his doubts and fear and his fucking issues get in the way. Dean has issues. Sam is...he's not perfect but he sure as hell is a better person than he is and Dean's not worthy. Of him, or his kindness, or anything really.

Swallowing thickly, he gets dressed slowly in his own clothes, a tight little outfit he's always disliked and waits until he hears the roar of the car before grabbing the keys and going out.

* * *

Sam stops a couple blocks away from the library to blaze it, inhaling lungfuls of smoke and puffing them out the window. Doesn't want his clothes to smell. God, that burns so good. Fuck. Exactly what he needed. Well. There goes his streak, but whatever. Not like he was trying to get clean. Not like it matters. Fuck. He shouldn'ta gotten high. Now he's gonna go into work stoned _and_ fuckin' depressed. Jesus.

Sam scrubs his face, checking his eyes in the mirror and putting in some eye drops when he sees they're red. It's just infatuation, is what it is. Dean's new and exciting and a little dirty and rough and it's nothing like Sam's ever had. Dean's a high better than any Sam's ever had. He slams on the steering wheel, grunting in frustration. Fuckin'-- Sam sighs roughly, taking one more puff to make sure he burned through it all, and storms into the library. He throws himself into his work, mood black.

Dean texts Officer Rick, tells him where they're meeting today since he changed alleys. It's his day off and even with Dean bruised like he is, Rick's kind of loyal, or he's the type who doesn't care if the merchandise is a life banged up as long as the ass is still tight. It feels wrong, it almost feels like cheating which is absurd because he's _not_ in a relationship. But initially he needed release, that's what the drugs were for so that's off the table, then he needed a distraction, what better than his work? Except he thinks about Sam the whole time.

So in the end, he leaves smelling like sex, feeling like a cheap whore yet again and with a sore ass. He did ask Rick a little favor though, keep tabs on Mark if he sees him so Dean can know which places to avoid.

The high wears off around noon, so Sam smokes some more during his lunch break.

When he gets home and Dean's not there, he lights up a joint and broods on the couch as some shit daytime TV talk show runs on the TV.

Dean comes back to the house a little after five, closing the door and suddenly feeling very much like the intruder he really is. God, he never should've called Sam.

By five, Sam’s a little more sober and he's burned through a good portion of his stash today, so he stows it when Dean walks in. He doesn't even know what to say to him without sounding whiny or clingy or whatever the fuck else it is about him that Dean doesn't wanna deal with.

It takes him a moment to realize Dean reeks like sex. His blood boils, then he huffs out a breath. He has no right to Dean and no right to be angry. "Go shower. I'm gonna nuke some Lean Cuisines," he mutters, staggering to his feet. Fuck, he hates this. They were having great sex less than twenty-four hours ago. Ugh. He just needs to sober up. The pot's making him a fucking queen.

He makes himself some coffee and pours Dean a cup without thinking, slurping on it as the microwave hums and spins their dinner. Dean sucked his dick right in this spot just yesterday. For free. Because he wanted to. And Sam said he loved him. Fucking dumbass.

Dean takes a long hot shower, a scalding one, actually. But the burn helps. He thinks about wearing Sam's sweatpants but decides against it in the end and puts one of his least uncomfortable pair of jeans, with the only white plain shirt he owns. He's still drying his hair by the time he goes to the kitchen. "How was work?" Dean asks quietly as he reaches to take the cup of coffee that he assumes is for him. God, the tension is so fucking palpable.

"Fine," Sam says shortly, setting out the two trays. In all honesty, he doesn't remember most of work. The pot does that sometimes. He doesn't ask how Dean's work went because regardless, he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear the answer. Sam sighs into his coffee, stabbing his way through his fettuccine alfredo. He's being entitled about this. Dean doesn't owe him anything. He's being an asshole. It's just Sam who...got caught up in the sex and the cuddling and the affection. He'd thought Dean seemed pretty...caught up too, but he supposes Dean doesn't get treated well that often. Either way, Sam imagined something that wasn't there, and now he's being a little bitch about it.

"I'm sorry," Sam says quietly, eyes on his lukewarm dinner. "About this morning. I was...entitled. I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you. You're still welcome to stay, but I'll...stay out of your business."

Dean looks up when Sam suddenly apologizes, chewing on his lower lip and exhaling deeply before opening his mouth to speak. "It's okay." Part of him feels like he should apologize too, for ruining whatever it was they had. "I'm sorry, too. I was just...everything was moving too fast and I-I didn't..." He trails off with a frustrated huff. How is he supposed to explain why he freaked out when he won't admit that really, he's just scared? Of this, of Sam.

Dean runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes tightly before standing up and heading to the bedroom instead, muttering something about not being hungry under his breath.

Sam watches him go, a little confused, but mostly just...sad. He probably fucked up whatever good thing they had before. He finishes his meal half-heartedly and picks at Dean's, chucking them both out after. He eyes his bedroom, considers going in there and giving in to his impulse to just curl around Dean and hold him forever. But he's behind on his school work as it is.

Sam settles on the couch with a sigh and loses himself in casework and thick law textbooks until he passes out, sprawled over the couch with an open book on his stomach.

Dean gets rid of his jeans and top and grabs Sam's sweatpants without thinking, slipping them on and closing his eyes as soon as he lands by the mattress. He curls around on himself for a moment, grabbing Sam's pillow and inhaling deeply. He can't bring himself to stay there though, so he gets off the bed to grab his sketchbook from his bag and a pencil.

Dean draws the room where Alastair and Mark moved him to when he started trying to escape. There were chains by the bed and a wide collection of whips and knives on a rack on one side of the bed, the other side held cuffs and huge toys. He trusted Alastair. And that's where it got him. By the time he’s finished, there's a dark, eerie feeling to his drawing but at least he vented. Sighing, he curls around the bed again, sketchbook left by the edge of the bed as he finally passes out.

Sam wakes himself up with a snort, snuffling and raking a hand through his hair. Gross. It's some ungodly hour in the morning, and his back aches from sleeping on the couch. He shifts his books onto the table, shuffling to his room. Dean's curled around one of his pillows, hair all flat, wearing Sam's sweatpants.

_This_. This is why he's falling for Dean so hard. Because he does shit like wear Sam's clothes and curl up in his bed and look fucking adorable. Sam sighs, scrubbing his face.

Dean left his sketchbook on the table. Sam sits on the edge of the bed, looking over the drawing. It's... horrifying. It's something out of a psychological horror movie. Is this where Dean was...trapped? Sam looks down at him, his lungs squeezing. God. Sam brushes his hand through Dean's hair. He grabs a scrap piece of paper and sketches out his kitchen. He's not nearly as good at Dean, but it's clear enough.

He leaves it on top of Dean's drawing and lays down, stretching out on the opposite side of the bed and leaving plenty of space between them. He falls asleep quickly.

* * *

When Dean wakes up, the bed's not as empty as it was before; Sam's asleep next to him, well, next to him there's a lot of space and then Sam.

Sighing, Dean rubs at his eyes and sits up, extending a blind hand for his sketchbook but what he ends up grabbing is a piece of paper with what appears to be a kitchen. Sam's kitchen, he realizes with a sharp exhale. Fuck, he left his drawing on plain sight. Sam must've seen.

Licking his lips, Dean flips to the drawing he previously did of Sam and starts adding color, his free hand loosely clutching Sam's own sketch. He's still working on the eyes when he hears Sam wake up. Dean turns to face him and the corners of his lips tug in a small smile. "You're not half bad at drawing for a future lawyer."

Sam blinks awake, yawning and rolling over. Oh. Dean. He's awake and sketching away and Sam's gut jerks as he remembers that drawing of the...that room. He's just not strong enough to keep himself from rolling closer and burying his face in Dean's hip. "Yeah. Intermediate art class, remember?" he murmurs, muffled by Dean's hip. Sam's quiet for a while, letting Dean draw, and then he sighs. "Is that drawing... It's horrible. God. I'm sorry you had to..." Sam trails off, squeezing Dean tightly.

Dean looks down in surprise when Sam's face buries in his hip. At least it's not awkward small talk, he'll take it. He focuses back on his drawing, frowning when he can't quite get the right color. He needs more green. His hand freezes over the page when Sam mentions his drawing, silent for a while before nodding. "Yeah," he clears his throat when his voice breaks for a second "I used to have a much nicer room. Until I started trying to escape. The chains weren't so comfy." Dean looks down at Sam and smiles wryly. "I much prefer the drawing of your kitchen. Less traumatizing, I think."

'Trying to escape.' It's shit like that that convinces Sam that there's no way Dean's start or continuation in prostitution was of his own volition. Maybe Dean's just too scared of change to let it go, but it just kills Sam to think that Dean was tortured and–and held captive and forced into selling his body. God. But that's...Dean's business. And Sam promised he'd stay out of it.

He detaches himself from Dean, clearing his throat. This is nuts. "Got any plans for today?" he asks, more to make conversation than anything.

Dean shakes his head and tries not to think about how much he misses Sam's warmth the second he pulls away. "Just thought I'd stay in bed, sketch away. I've got a sore ass, don't feel like moving." He murmurs the last part, already starting to get lost in his work when suddenly he perks up and remembers the money Rick paid him. He reaches down for his bag and pulls out the wad of bills, handing it to Sam. "Here. Thought I'd start with this if I'm gonna be staying here for a while."

Sam shakes his head, refusing to take the money. "No, dude, I told you. I'm not taking your money." Besides, Dean's only staying until he's back on his feet, right? That's what they agreed on. Like a business transaction. He curls up under the sheets and sighs.

This is weird. They're basically strangers, nothing more to say to each other, sharing a bed. Sam sighs and presses his face into his pillow. He's got nothing to do all day but he doesn't really wanna leave his bed.

Dean sighs and puts the money back in his bag. "Great. Then what will you take from me? I don't wanna feel like I'm living here for free." Sam doesn't answer though and Dean throws his hands up in exasperation. He can't offer sex, that'll probably get him the same response if not worse.

Huffing, Dean lays down next to Sam, initially putting some distance between them before he eventually scoots closer and reaches out to run his fingers through Sam's hair. "I hate this. Can't we...go back to the way we were?"

Sam wants to say he's not gonna take anything from Dean, but Dean's whole life has been a process of taking, so he doesn't think Dean will believe him if he says that. He tips his head happily into Dean's hand, rolling over to face him. "You mean having sex?" he says cock-browed. But his sarcastic expression melts almost instantly. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I didn't mean that." Sam sighs, closing his eyes. "I just...I don't wanna push into anything you don't want or don't wanna deal with. You seemed happy to–to hang out with me and let me cook for you and cuddle and fuck, but you won't let me–let me _help_ you. And I know I was a little over-enthusiastic about it, but I'll totally give you things, dude. Because I want to. I don't expect or want anything in return. But if you don't want my help or anything–and–and I don't mean to _change_ you, just...help. I don't wanna push it on you, I guess." Sam turns his face back into the pillow, waiting for the worst. Just can't keep his fat mouth shut.

"I mean more than that." Dean admits quietly, he looks up when Sam starts talking, still running his fingers through his hair. Sighing, Dean shakes his head slightly. "You just overwhelmed me, y'know? You kept talking about changing my life in just one day and giving up everything I've ever known. Not that I particularly enjoy it but at least it's something familiar. This...this is all different." Inhaling shakily, Dean looks down. "You were just supposed to be a client. A very unusual client but still." And he's much more now. More than just a friend or a fuck buddy or whatever the hell fits them. "Let me think about it, okay?" He says after a minute of silence. "About that modeling opening and...and college and stuff. I won't work for a while, when I'm better, I'll tell you what I've decided, okay?"

Sam nods. He can live with that. It's not even outright rejection. Sam exhales, pressing his face into Dean's hip again. Okay. This is better. He's glad they aired all this out.

Sam looks up, grinning at Dean. "Hey, so when you said 'more than that'... That still includes having sex, right?" he teases, sitting up and kissing Dean. And God, it feels nice. Dean's the best drug Sam's ever had. He runs a hand over Dean's ribs where the bruises are still healing, leaning down to kiss the marks. Then he shoots Dean a grin and blows a raspberry on his belly, laughing.

Dean chuckles and it turns into a slightly high-pitched laugh when Sam blows a raspberry on his belly, trying to push him away with his hands. "Stop!" He grabs Sam by his hair and coaxes him up to kiss him instead, grinning against their lips. "Yeah, we can have sex. That would be awesome, actually." He's glad things are at least okay between them now. The stoic look didn't look good on Sam at all

"Man, sex every morning and several times a day... I could get used to this," Sam teases, pulling Dean back into a kiss. He nips at his lips, tugging on his hair, running his hands down his body... "Oh, you said you were sore, didn't you?" Sam frowns, then shrugs. "Well, you can fuck me or I can blow you or... something..." he trails off, lips pressing to Dean's again. He wraps his arms around Dean's middle, tugging him close.

Humming, Dean grins and pecks Sam's lips again. "I didn't mean right now. I am sore, and kinda tired, I just wanna cuddle right now." He complies when Sam tugs him closer and his smile falters just a little when he realizes how romantic this is. But fuck, he wants it. "I care about you too, by the way." He mentions quietly, so quietly he's not even sure Sam really heard him.

Sam chuckles and tucks Dean against himself. He hears the words and just kisses the top of Dean's head. It warms his chest, but he appreciates that Dean's more...reserved than he is. It's nice to hear it. He rests his chin on Dean's head, gesturing at his sketchbook. "What were you drawing?" He peeks over. It's his face, partially colored. Sam grins, kissing Dean's neck. "That looks really good."

Dean tucks his head under Sam's chin and hands him the sketchbook. "I'm having trouble with your eyes. They're _hazel_. I still can't get 'em right." He shakes his head and tilts his head with an absent hum when he feels lips press to his neck. "Y'know...if I did model for your class. I mean...won't my scars be a problem? You said it was nude modeling."

Sam chuckles, looking it over. It really is incredible. He hums and shakes his head at Dean's question. "Mm, no. Every body is different. We've drawn people with tattoos, with prosthetics, fat, skinny, whatever. I was kidding earlier. Our professor is very serious about respecting the people who are willing to model for us. And if you're not comfortable modeling nude, that's fine too. Honestly, Ellen's the greatest. Almost makes me wish I was good enough to be an art major."

Dean chews on his lower lip and rests his hand on Sam's hip, fingers absently trailing up his skin. "How much did you say they paid for a class?" It definitely wouldn't be a permanent job but maybe he could try it. What does he got to lose? It's just losing his clothes in front of a class and letting them draw him. Maybe they'd get Dean right for a change if he himself can't. It's better than sucking dicks or taking them up his ass, for sure.

"Like sixty bucks. They'd probably have you for two or three classes to finish the drawings, but they do have a couple permanent models, I think, who do a bunch of different classes. If you decided to stick with it for a little while," Sam added in a rush. He buries his face in Dean's hair, kissing his scalp. "Let's go out and do something today."

"Permanent?" Dean chews on his lower lip thoughtfully, though a small smile stretches across his face in the end. Maybe change wouldn't be so bad after all and even though Sam's refusing his money right now, he'd find a way to pay him back somehow, if not with money or sex, by doing something else. Dean hums and tilts his head up to kiss Sam's lips, pulling back with raised eyebrows. "Something like what?"

"Um..." Sam grins. "We can go to the strip club I used to work at." He watches Dean's expression and bursts out laughing. "I'm not joking, dude. You think I'm in good shape because I like working out? I had to be when I worked there and the habit stuck. But yeah. It's called 'Parking in the Back'." He'd done it between sophomore and junior year and honestly, it was fun. He wasn't amazing, but he was pretty good, and it was good easy money. It was just too hard to work all night and then go to class the next morning during the school year.

"Wait, wait, wait." Dean shakes his head, his expression still one of disbelief. "You worked at a strip club? As...as a stripper? Or..." Dean shrugs, leaving the question for Sam to answer. He could very well have been a bouncer, that would require for him to be fit, too. But a stripper? No way. Dean laughs almost hysterically and runs a hand through his hair. "Whoa, I was not expecting that." Going to a strip club sounds kind of fun, though.

Sam chuckles. "Yeah, as a stripper." His chuckles fade away and he rubs the back of his head. "I was doing a lot of drugs. Needed the cash." He shrugs. "But the job itself wasn't bad. Fun, sometimes. And the other guys are great. I mean, if you wanna, we can go." As long as none of the other guys refer to him by his stripper name. Sam'll never hear the end of it from Dean if that slips out.

Dean nods understandingly and reaches for Sam's hand, lacing their fingers. "Was it good money? I thought about stripping for a while but by that time I was too far in with Alastair." It does sound fun and god knows he could use that. Dean grins widely and sits up suddenly, maybe a little too enthusiastic about going to a strip club but man, it feels exciting, being out with Sam like that. "Yeah, it sounds fun. Let's go."

Sam chuckles. "Sure, we'll go this evening. I have a couple classes in the afternoon, so after that?" A thought occurs to Sam and he looks at Dean abruptly. "Hey, you could strip. It's kind of similar to what you do, but you don't have to fuck anybody and you get to dress up sexy and dance and not come home bruised..." Sam raises his hands. "Getting ahead of myself. But...I could talk to the manager. Just ask if you wanna, okay?"

"Maybe next time." It sounds kind of appealing, it also holds the promise of a next time and it's all worth saying that when he sees Sam's dimpled smile. He really can't resist leaning in for a kiss, or two. "Just wanna sit back and watch the first time, learn from the experts." Dean winks at Sam and gives him a toothy grin. "Maybe you could go up there for old time's sake, show me some of your moves huh."

Sam shakes his head, proud of himself for only flushing a little bit. "No no no, I don't think so. You really don't need to see me in a man-thong." Sam rolls over, pressing his face into Dean's stomach. "Besides, it's...embarrassing." Sure, Sam could gyrate like a pro in front of strangers, but in front of people he knew? Brady showed up at the club once and Sam almost died.

"I would love to see you in a man-thong!" Dean exclaims and laughs when Sam hides his face in his stomach, fingers coming up to thread through his hair. He rolls his eyes at the other's explanation, fingers trailing down to the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against the skin there before going lower down on his back. "C'mon, I bet you look sexy doing it."

Sam laughs, shaking his head. "I do, but doesn't make it any less scary doing it in front of people I know. Brady came into the club once and I had to crush his phone so he wouldn't put videos of me all over the class Facebook page." He smirks, looking up at Dean and winking. "Are you trying to get a private dance out of me, Winchester?"

"Maybe. Is it working?" Dean grins wickedly at Sam and laughs at the wink. "C'mon, I'm not just one of your college friends. You gotta try and seduce me with your moves. Using said thong, of course. The thong is essential." Oh yeah, he'll bet that thong fits Sam very nicely. Anything would fit him nicely, to be honest. Even that rainbow top he owns would look good on him, if not a few sizes too small.

Sam laughed. "Oh, because I have to seduce you before I can get in your pants?" He heaves a dramatic sigh, crawling out of bed and rummaging in his closet. Oh god, he does still have it. The leopard print one. God.

"You should've tried to seduce me, Wesson." Dean teases and grumbles when the other crawls out of bed. Damn, he hates to see him leave but he loves to watch him go.

He doesn't have an outfit, but he does have... Sam flushes and looks over his shoulder at Dean. "Close your eyes. Don't peek."

Raising his eyebrows at the order, Dean obliges after a moment of reluctance and closes his eyes. "Am I gonna get my own lap dance, now? Can I at least slip money in your underwear?" He chuckles to himself.

Sam strips and pulls on the thong, wiggling a little uncomfortably at first. It's definitely something he'd have to get used to again. But it makes his junk look huge, so it's a tradeoff. He pulls on his tightest jeans over it and grabs his cowboy boots and cowboy hat out of the closet and puts them on. Dean's totally gonna laugh at him, but hopefully he can shut him up. He grabs his phone and starts 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,' flushing and telling Dean, "You can look now."

Dean grins when he hears the song playing and opens his eyes at Sam's instructions. His eyes widen at the sight that greets him and he can't really help the way he bursts out laughing. Oh, god. Of course it was gonna be a cowboy outfit. It takes Dean a while to get himself under control and when he does he takes a really good look at Sam. Did his junk grow in the meantime? It's ridiculous but...he does looks kinda hot. "Well, c'mon cowboy. You owe me a lap dance." Dean grins.

Sam sinks back into the old familiar professionalism. He used to get laughs for his outfits sometimes. They were porny and ridiculous, but light-hearted. He flushes and grins at Dean's laughter, one hand sliding along the edge of his cowboy hat, the other swooping down to mime a gun at his crotch as he dances. His body remembers the steps and it's surprisingly easy to sink into the routine, even as Dean giggles at him. "Yer gonna get more'n that, sugar," Sam drawls, letting the Texas back into his voice.

A few giggles escape Dean even now, one hand cupping over his mouth to try and muffle them. He can't help it, it's so...cheesy, straight out of a porno. It's better and definitely hotter than Rick's porny dialogue at least.

Grinning widely at the Texan accent that rolls off Sam's tongue, Dean's eyes trail down to Sam's crotch before back up to his eyes. "C'mere then, lemme save a horse and ride a sexy cowboy." He bites down on his lower lip, his grin still wide as he looks up from under his lashes at Sam. He really does have some moves.

Sam shakes his head, laughing. "Song ain't over, beautiful." He reaches over and throws the covers off of Dean, grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him out so he's spread out on the bed. Sam dives artfully over Dean, his body rolling just shy of Dean's so they don't touch. He grins, bracing his feet and one arm, tucking the other behind his back and gyrating his hips to the beat, mere inches from touching Dean. He wants to see if he can get Dean hard without touching him.

Dean makes a little surprised huff when Sam grabs his ankles and pulls him down, spread out on the bed. God, they're not even touching but the way Sam's body is mere inches from his, his hips rolling in time to the beat of the song...Jesus, Dean's supposed to be the master of seduction here. He really underestimated that shy college boy that accidentally stumbled upon his alley all those days back. "Do I have to wait 'till the song's over to touch you, too?" He murmurs, his hands already itching to reach out.

Sam hums and considers it, then shakes his head. "Nah, you can touch me, babe." He straightens up and inches forward on his knees, his legs bracketing Dean's head, bracing himself on the headboard and giving a couple grinds at Dean's face. He grins down at him. "Wanna unzip me, sweetheart? I'm feelin' a little cramped in these jeans." He kind of wants to keep the thong on, though. Just push them out of the way enough that he can get Dean on his cock. God. The thought makes him shiver for a moment.

Dean's hands go up to Sam's hips and slip down to his ass as the other inches forward, subconsciously licking his lips when Sam grinds down on his face. Oh, god, he can already feel the blood flowing south. Letting his hands wander to Sam's crotch, he nods with a bite of his lower lip and unzips his jeans and what he sees definitely gets him hard. Jesus fucking Christ.

He honestly didn't think he'd see the thong tonight, much less a leopard print one. It shouldn't be so hot, Dean should burst out laughing anytime now but his face is lightly flushed and yep, that's his hard on pressing insistently against his sweatpants. "Fuck." He breathes, looking up at Sam with lust-filled eyes.

Sam was expecting another outburst of laughter at the leopard print, but Dean swears and looks up at him wide-eyed. Jesus. That shouldn't be as hot as it is. He smirks down at Dean and gives himself a squeeze, makes it obvious he's getting hard. "This pony ain't gonna ride itself," he drawls, rolling off of Dean and splaying over the bed, arms thrown back over the headboard, legs thrown wide. Sam runs a hand down his stomach and into the dumb thong, stroking his cock with a thirsty moan. This is _fun_. He likes seeing Dean all hot and bothered.

Dean licks his lips and instead of pouncing on Sam like he originally wanted, he kisses up Sam's thighs, teeth grazing slowly over the skin. He stops just shy of the thong and swats Sam's hand away. "That's mine to touch, cowboy." God, this is hot. Dean's really becoming a fan of having sex just because he wants to, no transaction involved, especially with Sam. He mouths Sam's cock through the thong, lips suckling on the flushed head peeking out just slightly until there's a dark spot of precome on the fabric.

Sam's thighs twitch under Dean's attention and he bites back a moan. He has to stay in character. Maybe they should do this more often: roleplay in bed. It's kinda fun. He lets out a low groan when Dean starts sucking him through the thin fabric, a hand settling on the back of his head and the other lifting his cowboy hat so he can see better. He's still got the stupid boots on, too. Sam presses on the back of Dean's head, rocking his hips up, his breath leaving him as he watches his covered cock press against Dean's soft lips. "Look mighty pretty, doll. Got lips like a girl," he breathes, remembering just in time to keep up the accent.

That accent should not be hot. At all. Roleplay in bed has never been more fun as it is right now. Pulling off Sam's cock, Dean smiles with said lips and crawls back up to kiss Sam, hard. His hands go down to tug the sweatpants down, kicking them off his legs once they're pooling at his thighs and he slowly grinds down against Sam, hips circling in little circles as their dicks rub together. He's still a little sore, hole a little puffy and red from Rick but he can take it. "How 'bout you prep me, cowboy?" That's definitely his new nickname for Sam. It's official

Sam smirks, positioning Dean in his lap, both hands on his ass. "My my my my my," Sam murmurs against Dean's mouth, pulling Dean down to grind against his cock. "Somebody's eager, aren't you? What do you want, sugar, hmm? You want my big, thick cock inside that pretty hole of yours? You wanna bounce on my dick? Maybe we can do a little reverse cowgirl so I can watch that round ass, hmm?" God, he's riling himself up with this talk. Maybe it's the character making him more confident or naughty or something. He can't help but play with Dean's ass, bouncing it in his hands and giving a firm squeeze and spreading his cheeks. He inches a finger against his pucker, pressing with the pad and biting at Dean's lip.

Fuck, all that dirty talk he usually hates sounds so much better coming out of Sam's mouth. Dean leans down with a lewd moan as Sam starts squeezing and spreading his ass, nibbling at the other's earlobe and tugging at the sensitive skin with his teeth. "I like this side of yours. More naughty." He whispers and pulls back with a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes. Dean hisses slightly at the first touch of Sam's finger against his hole but eventually relaxes. "C'mon, stretch me for your big, thick cock, baby."

Sam grins, can't help a little bit of a blush. He'd never thought he'd be pleasing a hooker like this. Doing a damn good job of it, if he says so himself. He catches Dean's hiss, remembering what he said about having a sore ass, so he grabs some lube out of a drawer, slicking up his fingers before easing one into Dean's hole. A thought occurs to him and he braces his hand against his leg, finger angled up and inside Dean. He grabs Dean's hip with the other and guides him to rise and fall on Sam's finger, effectively fucking himself. "Gonna help me out, sugar?"

Dean sighs shakily in relief when he feels Sam's now lubed up finger ease into his hole. Yeah, that's better. Grinning down at Sam, Dean rests his hands on his chest to support his body and starts slowly bouncing up and down, fucking himself on Sam's fingers. "Put another one in, cowboy." Dean positively purrs and leans down to kiss Sam passionately, ass slowly bouncing as Sam adds another finger in and he bites hard on his lower lip with a deep groan.

Sam chuckles a little at the nickname, but he likes it. He slides another finger in beside the first, humming against Dean's mouth. God, Dean looks so sexy bouncing like that, already enjoying himself so much. Sam angles his fingers to help Dean hit his prostate, growling his approval. He kisses Dean softly, then slaps his ass hard, pressing his hand to the skin to feel how warm it gets. Sam lets out a low grumbling noise of approval, slapping his ass again. God. And the _noises_ Dean makes. "You're doing a great job, darlin'. You sure you ain't never been on a horse before?" he teases, tipping his hat at Dean.

Moaning softly when a second finger joins the first, Dean tips his head back a little, droplets of sweat already dripping down the curve of his neck. Shit, he's so glad they made peace and didn't give this up.

Dean throws his head back with a mewl when Sam hits his prostate, his nails scratching down Sam's chest and leaving slight red marks behind on his skin. He whimpers softly at the slap, bouncing up at a faster pace now on his fingers. He still manages a shaky grin, god, that hat suits him. "T-this is my first time. Think I'll need to practice a lot to get better."

Shiiiit. Dean's scratching him up and making those purdy noises and his chin bobs a little bit with each movement and it's so fucking hot. Sam's eyes go wide when Dean responds. He didn't expect him to play along, and mother of God it's hot. Sam grins broadly, then tones it down to a sexy smirk. "You're a natural, sugar. And we'll get you lots of practice, don't you worry, doll." He slips a third finger into Dean, moving his hang slightly to meet the movement of his hips. "You let me know when you're good'n ready, darlin', awright? 'Cause this here's a pony and I wanna get you on a stud."

God, he never thought he'd be into pet names but with Sam calling him 'sugar' and 'doll'...he wouldn't mind being called that during sex again. Chewing down on his lower lip to muffle a moan when a third finger slips inside, Dean looks down where his nails have left a trail of scratches and smiles in satisfaction. "M'done with practice... _stud_." Dean whispers in a heated tone and lifts his lips, pulling off Sam's fingers and grinning. "Still want that cowgirl, babe?"

Sam's cock twitches at the nickname. They really should play at this more. Sam wiggles out of the thong. That thing was pinching his balls. He wipes the lube from his fingers on to his cock, grinning at Dean. "'Course I do, pretty. C'mon. Show me what you learned." He throws his arms behind himself over the headboard, legs splayed, cock standing tall for Dean. He gives Dean a smirk, giving his hips a little buck.

"Leaving me to do all the work, stud?" Dean teases but turns around, ass facing Sam and he wiggles it a little with a grin over his shoulder before finding purchase in Sam's thighs as he grips Sam's cock, guiding it to his hole and slowly starting to lower himself down on it. "F-fuck..." His breath hitches. It burns a little at first but once the head slips in, Dean exhales deeply and gives way to the little sparks of pleasure as he takes Sam's cock to the hilt.

Sam groans as he watches Dean's ass, his eyes almost rolling back into his head as Dean's _warmtightwet_ hole wraps around his cock. Jesus. And he's all the way down. God. Sam grips Dean's thighs and inches him forward a little bit more so Sam can slouch and watch Dean's hole stretch around his cock. God _dammit_ , what a great ass. His eyes trace up Dean's scarred back for a moment, and he presses a couple kisses to his spine. Sam reaches up and lazily tugs on Dean's hair, giving his ass a squeeze. "Beautiful, Dean. Jesus. C'mon. Fuck yourself for me." He gives a little bump up, groaning when it rocks Dean's whole body.

Dean's upper body leans forward, pushing himself up a few inches so Sam can see how his cock is stretching Dean's hole. God, the view he's giving must look obscene. He tenses a little when he feels Sam's lips on his spine but it takes only a few seconds this time for him to relax. He'll call that progress. Shivering, Dean yelps at the little bump, the movement making Sam's cock brush his prostate ever so lightly. "Oh, god," His lips part on a breathy groan, fingernails digging into Sam's skin, Dean's hard cock bobbing as he bounces up and down and fastens the pace.

Sam can't do anything but stare for a moment. Dean's hole all--all pink, the rim wet, so _stretched_. He grips Dean's hip to help him move, the other hand hovering just under Dean's ass so he can feel each bounce against his palm. He's not sure why he likes it, just that it's really satisfying to watch Dean's ass shake as he rides his cock. He urges Dean a little faster, angling his hips to help Dean catch his prostate and he's probably gonna lose it pretty soon himself. Dean just looks--sounds-- _feels_ , god, so good. "Fuckin' natural, darlin'," Sam murmurs throatily, giving Dean's ass a swat. It blooms pink and Sam groans, squeezing it. "What a great fuckin' ass, Jesus."

He's not gonna last. Jesus, Sam makes him feel like a fucking teenager, always making him lose it so soon. But god, he's good. Dean may be the hooker here but it's clear Sam doesn't stay behind. Dean's eyes fall shut, a trembling moan that's soon followed by a whine when Sam angles his hips so each time he bounces down, Sam nails his prostate. No, definitely not gonna last. He clenches tightly around Sam when the other spanks him, cock twitching as a spurt of come drips down. "A-again. Do _that_ again." Christ, since when does spanking has that effect on him?

Sam groans when he feels Dean spasm around him and he realizes he's coming. _Already?_ A surge of pride fills Sam. Damn, he's good. Wait, did Dean come because of the spank? Jesus, that's hot. Sam's cock pulses inside Dean and he spanks his ass several times in a row, hard, watching the skin turn red, and that's all he needs to spill into Dean's tight little hole. Sam groans, squeezing Dean's hips, his own hips working in short pumps as he rides it out and goes limp, panting. "Jesus..." Sam huffs, running a hand soothingly over Dean's red ass. He tips his cowboy hat back when Dean looks over his shoulder, grinning tiredly. "You did amazin', sugar. Betcha can't wait to ride again, huh?" he teases, picking up the accent again.

By the time he finishes coming, his ass is bright red and Dean's panting, still shuddering through the aftershocks. Opening his eyes and waiting until the blurry black spots fade, Dean turns to look at Sam over his shoulder and laughs breathlessly at the words. "Fuck, I hadn't come that fast since I was a teenager." Licking his lips, he pushes himself up on his arms and exhales sharply when the head pops out, a trickle of come dripping down his hole, making Dean blush a little. Jesus, that's slutty.

He rolls off of Sam's body and flops down next to him with a content sigh, his head coming to rest on his chest. "Thanks for the lesson, cowboy." Dean grins up at Sam and reaches up to tip his hat.

Sam hisses slightly when his cock is released back into the cool air, though he's quickly going soft, so it was inevitable. He watches the come drip from Dean's hole, his gut jerking half-heartedly. Sam chuckles and wraps his arm around Dean's shoulder, digging in the drawer with his over hand for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering Dean one. He doesn't really feel the need to smoke, it just...feels great after great sex.

He inhales deeply and puffs it out slowly, grinning down at Dean. "You like that? That was hot, huh?" He's quiet for another couple minutes, burning through his cigarette. "So...spanking?" Sam asks with a smirk, rubbing Dean's still-pink butt.

Dean takes the offered cigarette with a grin and takes a long drag, blowing out the smoke in the opposite side. "Yeah, I didn't expect it to be but yeah, it was hot." His grin is replaced by a slightly embarrassed expression and he hides his face in Sam's shoulder. "It wasn't even a turn on before!" Although to be fair, dirty talk has never been a turn on either until Sam. He squirms at the hand rubbing the tender skin on his ass and fixes Sam with a glare. "Hands off, Leopard Thong." The glare dissolves into a chuckle then, which evolves in a fit of giggles. "Oh god, why did I find that hot?"

It's Sam's turn to flush and he rolls his eyes at Dean. "Honestly, I was half expecting you to lose your shit and we'd both go soft and just lie there disappointed because you couldn't stop giggling." He pinches Dean's butt playfully, crossing his cowboy-booted ankles. "I used to have a whole bunch more outfits, but the club kept 'em. These boots and the hat are mine. I wear them on a regular basis," he says seriously, grinning at the face Dean makes at him. Sam stretches with a huge yawn, taking another drag before speaking. "I liked spanking you. Maybe we could...do another role play." Sam's eyes light up. "I wanna dress you up. Oh, god, you would look so sexy in lingerie. Yes. Fuck."

"What can I say? You make it look hot." He smirks but yelps when Sam pinches his butt, swatting at his hand with a half-hearted hiss. "Seriously, hands off." Dean grimaces and pats Sam's belly. "The outfit's good in bed but please, oh please, tell me you're kidding." He laughs and lays his head on Sam's chest with a hum, looking up just in time to see the other's eyes light up and he shrugs. "I do look sexy in lingerie. You honestly think I've never tried it?"

Sam's not surprised. He gives Dean a dubious look, though. "Yeah, but I bet you've never worn stripper lingerie. It's way more ridiculous, way sluttier, and way sexier. I'll get you some," Sam says happily, winking at Dean. This is...very familiar. In the sense that they're acting like a couple who sees a long run, who're confident about trying out new things in bed together. It's weird and Sam likes it, so he doesn't say anything in case that jinxes it.

"Well, you know me, I'm always up for something sluttier." Dean grins and leans forward for a kiss. He feels...happy. For once in his life he actually feels happy. Well, his life wasn't always bad, he was pretty happy back when his mother was alive. Then she died and everything want to hell.

Sam yawns and gathers Dean closer, glancing at the clock. It's almost noon. His stomach grumbles and he looks down at Dean sheepishly. "Lunch?"

Chuckling at the way Sam's stomach grumbles, he pokes his belly and nods. "Yep. Oh, I don't have a lot of experience with cooking but um, d'you like pie?" He smiles, the expression a little childlike.

Sam grins, kissing Dean's forehead. "Pie sounds fantastic. I'll make spaghetti." Sam detaches himself from Dean reluctantly, stretching with a massive yawn. He kicks off his cowboy boots, then grins over his shoulder at Dean and keeps the hat on as he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs.

Sam eyes Dean's clothes on the floor. "We need to get you some more comfortable clothing." Sam grins suddenly. "Hey, we can go to the mall and get you clothes, and then go get you some lingerie. Please?" he tacks on, hitting Dean with his best puppy dog face.

"Good." He hasn't made the pie since his Mom died but hey, he's got a kitchen to use now, so why not? Plus, he could cook around here for a change, at least pay Sam back in sugar. He grins when Sam keeps the hat on and rolls his eyes fondly, putting a clean pair of boxers as well. "Uh..." Dean trails off and looks into those damned puppy eyes. Aw man, and he thought the dimples were gonna be his weakness. "Ugh, you're so not allowed to use those on me again. Fine, I should have enough to spend on clothes." He thinks. Maybe. He's not touching the money he's been saving up but maybe Rick's payment.

Sam laughs at Dean's reaction, but his uncertainty about the money has him frowning. He knows Dean is too proud to let him buy him the clothes, so instead he says, "Hey, if I pick out some of the clothes for you, can I buy them? I was in a long term relationship with a woman, I'm very good at matching and fashion and shit," Sam says in his gay voice, popping a hip and flapping a hand. He grins at Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him to his side. "We can get you cowboy boots too."

Dean smiles at Sam's voice though he hesitates. He doesn't want to feel like more of a burden and he knows Sam will deny it if he says it out loud, but c'mon, he's already staying in Sam's house and eating his food for free, he wants to at least buy his own clothes. Deep down, Dean knows Sam's only trying to help but he really doesn't feel comfortable letting Sam have everything for him on a silver platter. He really doesn't want to start a fight though. "How about you pick out the lingerie and some matching outfits and I buy some comfortable clothes, kay? I can't always hog your sweatpants."

Sam nods hesitantly. He doesn't wanna have this fight. So instead, he scoops Dean up and heads into the kitchen, careful not to hit Dean's head on the doorframe. "You should have everything you need, just lemme know if you can't find it." Sam sets about making meat sauce for his pasta, humming to himself and smoking the rest of his cigarette before snubbing it.

Compromise. That's a good start. Dean's arms instinctively shot out to wrap around Sam's neck when the other suddenly picks him up. "Why do you keep carrying me and why is it hot?" Dean grumbles and shakes his head, taking a seat at the table and watching Sam cook with a grin. He feels warm and fluttery inside. Jesus, he's falling for Sam. He's really, actually, falling for a guy who he's known for barely a week. But also the guy who treated him like another human being instead of a cheap whore, who was gentle and considerate with him, who helped him when he was beat down. Fuck, this is bad.

Sam puts some classic rock playing on his phone. It's not really his kind of music, but he grew up on it and Dean totally seems like the hair band type. He looks over his shoulder to say something and Dean is staring at him, looking somewhere between frustrated and affectionate. Sam quirks a confused smile and kisses Dean to get his attention. "You gonna make that pie or not, sugar?" Sam grins at the pet name, patting Dean's ass playfully. "How's your ass, hmm? Ready for another spanking?"

The classic rock and the kiss only make it worse. How is it possible that someone like Sam exists? God, he just keeps getting more perfect. Dean's screwed. He licks his lips and forces those thoughts away, slapping Sam's arm and standing up. "Nuh-huh, you're not touching my ass so soon after that, cowboy.' Dean remarks and smirks as he strolls into Sam's kitchen. "Let's just hope you have what I need. What d'you think of pecan?"

Sam chuckles, for a moment imagining bending Dean over his lap and spanking his ass raw, listening to him whimper and his breath catch, maybe he'd get a couple tears rolling down his cheeks... Sam shakes himself. Dean's making him realize how kinky he is.

"Um, yeah," Sam says belatedly, watching Dean's ass as he walks past. God. He's so fucking attracted to Dean. It's like Jess all over again. Sam pushes that thought away firmly. It's not the same. He turns his attention back to his sauce, trying not to think about Dean and his Perfect Ass.

Dean quirks an amused eyebrow at Sam's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression and smirks a moment later He knows that look. "At least let me recover before you start thinking about round two." Chuckling softly, Dean grins in satisfaction when he sees that Sam in fact has everything he needs and starts making the pie. It's like relearning to ride a bicycle. Dean feels a pang of sadness for a moment. This used to make him feel closer to his mother. Sighing quietly, he focuses on his task at hand and tries to push his thoughts away.

Sam grumbles about not needing to recover and it was only a couple light spanks, anyway. He can't help but notice the way Dean's shoulders slump as he turns to his pie, so Sam turns up the music and starts dancing around, waving his spoon and grinning at Dean. When's the last time he was so light-hearted? He can't remember ever dancing around his kitchen and feeling so happy he could just die.

"I did most of the work, pillow princess." Dean shoots back, though there's a slightly sad edge in his words now. He misses her. Dean turns around when Sam turns up the music and bites the inside of his cheek to keep it from happening but Sam's smile seems to be contagious and with the ridiculous dancing, Dean can't help but smile as well. "You're a dork." He murmurs but it's teasing, his own hips starting to sway to the beat.

Sam laughs and nods, taking Dean by the hips and bopping around with him. Outside of stripping, Sam is actually an atrocious dancer. It's a skill. He pulls Dean with him as he wiggles around the kitchen, singing along badly. Ah, this is so...cutesy and couple-y and Sam hopes Dean doesn't notice so it doesn't have to end. He hauls Dean up by the backs of his thighs, wrapping him around his waist and dancing around, grinning and giving him a kiss.

"Sam, my pie!" Dean tries to complain as Sam grabs him by his hips and pulls him with him to dance around the kitchen. He eventually rolls his eyes and joins in on the singing, way off-key, actually. It seems straight out of a cliché rom-com and Dean lets himself enjoy it this time because he's never had this before, never felt like this before.

His arms wrap around Sam's neck as he's hauled up, smiling into the kiss and deepening it. Dean doesn't know if Sam meant those three words he said after an orgasm right here in this kitchen but right now, Dean wishes he could say it back; fears and trust issues aside. "You're a horrible dancer." He says instead, pulling back to look into Sam's eyes, the corners of his eyes wrinkling from his much he's smiling.

Sam opens his mouth and almost says, 'I love you too'. But that's not what Dean said. Still, Sam swears he sees it, somewhere in the way Dean's looking at him. No, he's just grasping at straws again. So instead, he says, "Yeah, fully clothed. With every article of clothing I take off, I get better." Sam winks and places Dean on the counter, settling between his legs and kissing him slowly. God, he loves kissing Dean. A rush of emotion fills his chest and he squeezes Dean's thighs, kissing him deeper, profoundly, wishing there was some way this could all be easy.

There's something about this kiss that sets it apart from all the others. Maybe it's the raw emotions Sam's pouring into it, threatening to overwhelm Dean as he pulls Sam closer, their chests pressing together. What if he simply says it? What if he regrets it though? Saying that would mean putting himself out in the open, to feel vulnerable and exposed. He can't trust someone again only to be let down. Dean's chest squeezes and he can't breathe for a moment, choosing to pull back then, eyes closed and forehead resting against Sam's. He wants to trust Sam, to fully trust him. He just doesn't know how.

Sam chases Dean's lips for a moment, exhaling through his nose when they part, foreheads touching. His hands have settled at the tops of Dean's thighs, right at the joint of his hip. There's something in the air between them, something Dean won't–can't say. And Sam won't push him. He promised that. Sam lifts Dean's chin gently, thinks he catches hesitation and uncertainty in that candy green. So he kisses him again, softly, in case the answer to Dean's uncertainty is tucked away somewhere in the seam of their lips. And if it's not, well... Sam can live with that.

He's so fucking scared. Dean won't--can't set himself up for heartbreak again. Jesus, if his mom had never died maybe he wouldn't be so messed up. Maybe he wouldn't have met Sam. That though just makes him deepen the kiss, a slightly desperate tinge to Dean's lips as his hands card up through Sam's hair. "I..." He swallows thickly as they pull back, biting down on his lower lip in frustration. The words seem stuck in his throat. Shoulders slumping for the barest of moments, Dean catches Sam's lips in another soft, quick kiss instead. "I should get back to my pie." He mutters, giving Sam a small smile before hopping off the counter and going back to his pie.

It's right there, Sam can see it. Dean seems caught, staring at him, then his shoulders drop and he slides off the counter. Sam's heart is pounding, though. He was gonna say it. Sam watches Dean work for a moment before stepping up behind him and wrapping his arms around his middle. He kisses the top of Dean's head, takes a breath, and into his hair he murmurs, "I love you too." He kisses his hair again and lets him go, going back to his sauce and praying he's not way off mark.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean inhales sharply, his eyes closing as he leans back into Sam's chest. He knows. Licking his lips, Dean turns to watch Sam keep working on his sauce. He feels like crying a little bit, and smiling until his cheeks hurt. Sam makes him feel everything.

No freak out. God. That's good, right? Sam thinks he was right. He can't keep himself from peeking over at Dean every once in a while. He's so beautiful, inside and out.

Dean smiles softly and reaches to turn up the volume a little bit more, hips swaying to the beat. Once he finishes his pie, Dean steps behind Sam and wraps his arms around him, kissing behind his ear. "Almost done? I'm starving."

"Hi starving, I'm Sam," Sam says automatically when Dean hugs him, grinning over his shoulder. "Yes I am. Grab some plates?" He drains the pasta and takes the sauce off the stove, setting it all up on his little table. They don't have to talk about the 'I love you' thing, right? It's out there now. Nothing else to say. And that's okay. Sam smiles like an idiot as he watches Dean move around his kitchen.

Dean rolls his eyes and pinches Sam's belly playfully. "Oh, good. You make dad jokes too." Dean shakes his head but chuckles and presses a wet, slobbering kiss on Sam's cheek, pulling back and grabbing some plates before the other can retaliate. He helps Sam set the table, smiling at him every time they lock eyes. So, he didn't exactly say it, but Sam knows. And that's enough for now. Hopefully.

Dean sits down once everything's set. "Hey, do you think I could become a permanent model if I took you up on that offer?'

Sam’s settled at his spot, halfway through serving himself when he looks up at Dean, surprised. A smile spreads across his face. "Y-yeah. Yeah, absolutely. I have set today. Why don't you come with me and we'll talk to Ellen? Honestly, I'm sure she'd love to have you. And don't worry, I'll protect you from the sex-starved college kids." Sam winks, almost not believing this. Wow. Dean's _settling_. With him. Wow.

"T-today?" Dean sputters, coughing on his food and reaching for a napkin to wipe at the sauce that dripped down his chin. He drops his fork down on the plate slowly and turns to look at Sam, his expression suddenly nervous and slightly worried. "What do I wear? What do I _say_? I-I mean, I've never had any experience modeling. My only applicable skill would be getting out of my clothes in record time. And sucking dick but somehow I don't think that'll impress her."

Sam chuckles a little bit at Dean's reaction, waiting for him to finish freaking out before responding. "You're not really gonna have to say or wear anything, for starters. And seriously, Dean, it's not really a modeling job. Ellen will pose you, probably sitting since it's your first time, and you just have to hold still for an hour. I've done it before. It's a job for students when they need extra cash, dude. Seriously. Very easy. No experience necessary." He chuckles softly, spinning some pasta around his fork. “Literally all you have to do is sit there and look pretty."

"I still can't go there naked, can I?" Dean grumbles but finds himself relaxing as Sam keeps talking, nodding and taking a deep breath. Okay, he can do that. He's got the pretty part down already, he just has to sit still for an hour and maybe do some posing. His head snaps back up when he processes Sam's words and his brow furrows. "What do you mean you've done it before? Have you...modeled for your class, nude?" A smirk starts pulling at his lips then.

Sam's eyes snap up at Dean's question and he puts on a panicky fake-guilty voice. "What? Me? Model nude? Ha, no, of course not, never." He chuckles and shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, a while ago. It was 'cause our model was a no-show and I suck at art anyway, so Ellen had me model. Although," Sam adds, gesturing with his fork, "I bet any naked drawings you do of me would be way better."

"And here I thought you were just a shy college boy. My, my, my. Stripping? Nude modeling? I gotta say, Wesson, I like this side of yours." Dean chuckles and shakes his head. Man, Sam really proved to be something else. He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, almost done with his pasta as he takes another bite and swallows it down before speaking. "I wouldn't underestimate your classmates." He then laughs as he thinks of something and turns to face Sam. "How many of them asked you out after that class, huh?"

Sam's flush deepens and he rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. "That's, uh, that's actually how Jess and I started dating." He grins. "But I got eight phone numbers that day. Brady made me count. I guess you could say I undress to impress." He winks, finishing up his meal and taking his Dean's plates to the sinks. "So when's that pie gonna be done?" he asks, peeking in the oven.

"I bet they didn't know how dorky you were at the time." Dean rolls his eyes fondly and stands up to peek in the oven as well. "Should be done by now." He hums absently and reaches around Sam to grab a couple of oven gloves to pull out the pie. Dean smiles smugly when the smell hits him. Yep, he's still got it. "Grab some clean plates, will ya? M'gonna serve us a slice."

Sam grabs some plates for them and hands them to Dean for a slice each. Sam settles back at the table and waits for Dean before taking a bite. He groans, closing his eyes. "This is delicious," he breathes, shoveling another bite in his mouth. It's godly. Best pie he's ever had. Sam barely speaks, busy getting as much pie in his mouth as he can.

Dean's smile grows when Sam practically starts shoveling his mouth with pie. He takes a bite from his own slice and has to agree with Sam. It tastes just like his mother's. "Good to know I haven't lost my touch. Hey, maybe I can pay you back in pie?" He jokes and chuckles, taking another bite and watching Sam with a wide smile. "It's my mother's recipe. She'd probably come back and haunt me if I disgraced her memory with bad pie."

Sam finishes in record time, leaning back in his chair with a content groan. He smiles at Dean, scraping a couple more smears off his plate. "Well, kudos to your mom. And you. That was incredible." Sam glances at the clock, sighing. "Okay. I have class. C'mon, get naked." He grins, leaning over and kissing Dean's forehead.

"Bossy." Dean mutters and takes both of their plates to the sink, washing them quickly before joining Sam in the bedroom and starting to slip out of his clothes, catching a glimpse of his scarred back in the mirror and biting on his lower lip. It's okay. Sam assured him it wouldn't be a problem.

"Hey," Sam says abruptly, trying to sound nonchalant, "Do you have any experience with sex toys or like, I dunno, BDSM? Or rather, are you into it?"

Sighing, Dean turns to the other with a slight frown. "Uh, I've tried toys. They're okay. BDSM on the other hand...I mean, it's kinda linked to bad memories for me. I hate being blindfolded or tied down and not being able to move."

"I was kidding about getting naked. You can wear some of my clothes if you want." Sam nods slowly in response. He'd expected that. He was curious about it all, but he didn't wanna push Dean into anything he didn't wanna do or it that made him uncomfortable. He swept Dean into his arms once he was dressed, kissing him firmly. "Ellen's gonna love you. It'll be great. You ready?"

"I know. I still can't go in sweatpants, genius." Dean laughs fondly and picks out some clothes that look like they might fit him alright. Thank God, Sam's wardrobe isn't as near slutty as Dean's is. Dean smiles into the kiss and nods once they pull away. "Yeah, okay. You better keep your promise and protect me from sex-starved college kids." He winks and chuckles, reaching for Sam's hand without thinking and holding onto it.

Sam chuckles and nods, glancing at their joined hands with a smile. He leads Dean out the quad, walking to his class. It feels really nice to hold Dean's hand like this. He catches a couple glances from people he knows–probably because they don't recognize Dean.

Dean catches the stares, varying from confused, probably because he's not a student to...huh, jealous and others flirty. He feels out of place without his usual skin tight jeans and flamboyant tops, not to mention, the fact he's a former hooker amongst college students.

* * *

When they get to his class, Sam catches Ellen. 

"Hey Ellen, this is my..." Oh, God, what are they? "Friend. Dean. Can he model for us today? He's looking to make some cash."

Ellen nods, looking Dean up and down quickly. "Sure, not a problem. Grace called out sick anyway. You comfortable getting naked in front all these kids?" she says with a dry smile, nodding to the filling room. The whole class was about thirty kids. 

Looking around at her question and at the people filling in, Dean inhales deeply and nods. He's not ashamed of his body, if only a little self-conscious of his scars but he'll power through that. "Just tell me how I should pose and I'll lose my clothes." He puts on his trademark charming, slightly cocky smile as he turns back to face her. That same smile that seemed to be enough for stoned Sam back in that alley.

Ellen stares at him critically before cracking a smile. She gives Sam a sly look. "Where'd you find this one, Sam? I like him."  
Sam chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. "It's a long story." He gives Dean a quick kiss, making sure that some of the friskier girls in the class are watching, before giving Dean's ass a pat with a wink and smiling reassuringly.

Ellen leads Dean into a side room with a couple lockers and a bench. "For your valuables or anything. There's a robe hanging on the wall, so you can come out in that, and the kids have a break halfway through so you and they can stretch, so you can wear that if you get cold. Be out in five, okay?"

Dean follows after Ellen and nods at her instructions, already reaching for the robe and opening the locker so he can store his clothes in there meanwhile. Before she can go though, Dean clears his throat. "Sam told me it didn't matter but I still feel like I should ask. I have a couple, very visible scars on my back, that's not a problem, right?"

Ellen shakes her head. "'Course not, boy. We like perfect bodies in art, but we like interesting bodies even more. You've got a good combination of the two." The way she says it isn't flirty; it's an appreciation for something beautiful. She leaves Dean to change. 

Dean nods and lets out a relieved sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. God, he doesn't know why he feels nervous. Dean's not exactly modest when it comes to his appearance, he knows he's attractive, why deny it? But his scars have always seemed like a huge imperfection to him; even worse, a reminder of the past he'd rather forget

Outside, Sam takes his seat and Brady topples in next to him.

Brady leans against Sam's arm and Sam can smell the pot in him. He makes a face. "Duuude, where've you been? Haven't seen you at any of my parties," Brady drawls.

"Busy," Sam says shortly. He really doesn't have the patience for Brady right now. He just watches the door, waiting for Dean to come out so he can make sure he's okay.

Dean undresses quickly and slips the robe on, taking a deep breath. He can do this.

The stares of what look to be thirty or more students are drawn to him the second he steps out but Dean's eyes focus solely on Sam. Sam keeps him grounded. Smiling slightly, he turns to Ellen and as soon as she tells him in what position to stay still, Dean takes the robe off.

Sam smiles at Dean when he walks out. He looks a little nervous, understandably. Ellen poses him in a fairly modest way, half-lying across a couch they have, facing the class.

The students are in a semi-circle around Dean, so maybe the kids at the edges will see Dean's scars, but Sam doubts it. He figures Ellen did that on purpose. Sam starts sketching, though it's difficult when he's admiring Dean's body at the same time. 

Brady's just staring, squinting at Dean. "Hey..." he says slowly, turning to look at Sam, "Isn't that guy a hooker? I feel like I've seen him...somewhere."

Sam's pencil freezes and he looks around furtively to see if anyone heard Brady, but everyone seems to be absorbed in their drawings. "No," he says sharply, giving Brady a glare. "He's a friend. I met him through Travis."

Brady shrugs and starts drawing.

Dean's gaze keeps flickering at first, from face to face, they all look so concentrated, some of them awed at his body. He'd much rather be on the opposite side, sketching away but he's got to say, this gig ain't half bad.

Dean ends up focusing on a certain spot above Sam's head and stands up to stretch once it's finally that break Ellen told him about.

Putting on the robe, Dean smiles when Sam approaches him. "Y'know, some here may be real artists, but I got high expectations for you, Wesson."

"Prepare to be disappointed, then," he chuckles. "Some of the kids in here are really good, though. And they have somee really interesting styles."

"Aw, c'mon. That drawing of your kitchen was pretty good. Besides, you're more advanced than the kids here, this isn't the first time you see me naked." Dean lowers his tone on the last part and winks at Sam with a shit-eating grin. He's kind of excited about others sketching him as well, he wonders if he'd get to see their work.

Just then Becky approaches Dean shyly, flushing. She'd been one of the ones who gave Sam her number when he modeled. She only has eyes for Dean this time, though.

"You're beautiful," she gushes, pressing a hand to her chest. "I just wanted to thank you for modeling for us." While she speaks, Sam keeps an eye on Brady. He seems to be lazing in his seat texting, so Sam's not too worried.

Dean's gaze snaps towards a petite blonde girl that approaches him and a charming smile stretches across his face at the gushing and compliment. "Why, thank you...Becky." He fills in when she gets the hint and introduces herself. She's blushing just by shaking his hand; it's kind of cute. "I'd love to see your work once you finish."

Becky skitters away after that, flushing red. Sam chuckles, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist. "Don't be fooled, she's more psycho than she lets on." He freezes when Brady makes his way down from their seats, squinting at Dean.

"Do we know each other?" Brady mumbles, eyeing Dean up and down. Sam's not sure if Brady's ever hired Dean, but he's not about to let Brady embarrass Dean in front of this whole class.

Dean’s bright smile falters when a blonde guy makes his way over asking if he knows Dean. His smile completely vanishes when his brain makes the connection. Shit. The guy never gave them a name and it had been a one-time thing but he'd hired both Dean and Serena -a fellow hooker/crack addict- for a threesome.

"I told you, Brady, we met through Travis. You probably don't know Dean."

Dean puts on a tight smile and shakes his head. "Don't think so. This is the first time I've been on campus." The guy had been drunk that day; Dean can only hope his memory's fuzzy enough.

Brady grunts and shrugs, going back to his seat. Sam looks down at Dean, squeezing him. "You okay? You know Brady, don't you?"

Dean nods and sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. He really doesn't want anyone else to know, he was just starting to get on Ellen's good side. "Yeah, he hired me and some other girl for a threesome." He murmurs quietly, looking up at Brady who stares back with a furrowed brow before seeming to brush it off and looking away.

When Dean explains, Sam's mouth tightens. It's not really disastrous if Brady knows Dean is (was?) a hooker, but it's not really the kind of thing Sam wants to get around, for Dean's sake. He wants him to be comfortable. "Do you want me to feed him some story about where he might recognize you from?"

Licking his lips, Dean shakes his head and puts on a small smile for Sam. "No, it's okay. Guy was smashed, he probably just recognized my face but won't make the connection."

Sam nods, kissing Dean quickly. "Let's go look at some of the drawings, hmm?"

Dean brightens up again at those words. "So I can see the art?" He asks excitedly and the wide smile's still there by the time Sam introduces him to the nearest student, Charlie. She’s energetic and friendly; they immediately hit it off and Dean gets to see her sketch so far. "You're really good."

There are a few details though and soon enough he's telling Charlie how he's kind of an artist too and she reveals that she's actually more interested in computer programming.

Brady scratches his chin, looking a little more sober now. "I swear I know that guy... Could be wrong though, I dunno," Brady mumbles. Sam doesn't say anything, just watching Dean flit from student to student.

Dean catches Brady looking at him a few times but ignores it and goes back to posing on the couch, sending a hopefully subtle wink to Sam as he gets in position.

Sam can't help but smile to himself at Dean's wink.

By the end of the class, he's pleased with his drawing, but it's nothing special. Sam exhales when Brady leaves after class, packing up his stuff and joining Dean. "Hey there. Did you worry at all about getting hard up there? Because it's remarkably hard to get hard when there's a room full of college kids staring, ain't it?" Sam says with a chuckle, looping an arm around Dean's waist and following him into the changing room.

"Actually, I did." Dean loops his own arm around Sam's lower back and pulls him close as they enter the changing room. Dean opens the locker and keeps talking as he gets dressed. "You look sexy when you're all concentrated and focused. The room was kinda cold though, definitely helped with my little problem." His smile dims a little though when he remembers Sam's friend and former client. "Did your uh, friend, kept thinking we know each other?"

Sam chuckles, looking Dean up and down indulgently. His smile falls, though he kisses Dean's forehead reassuringly. "Yeah, but I don't think he's gonna dwell on it. He's stoned most of the time, so his memory is pretty short term." He wraps his arms around Dean from behind, kissing his hair. "Thank you for humoring me. You were great. Beautiful. Did you have fun?"

"You know, no offense to your friend, but from what I remember that day, he's kind of a douchebag. Looks like it too. Maybe it's the hair." He muses and turns around so they're chest to chest instead, arms hooking around Sam's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. "Yeah, it was actually pretty cool." Dean grins and leans in for another short kiss. "Thanks for this." He smiles softly and hangs the robe back in its place when he pulls back. "I liked your friend Charlie by the way."

Sam smiles broadly. God, he's so glad Dean's happy. He laughs at the mention of Charlie. "Yeah, she's hilarious. And you're not her type, so I'm okay with you two hanging out." He winks, giving Dean a grin as they head back out.

Dean pretends to be offended and places a hand on his chest dramatically. "What do you mean? I'm everyone's type." He breaks the facade and laughs though at Sam's expression, his arm coming back to wrap around his lower back as they walk out the room.

Ellen's waiting for them, looking amused. "So, Dean is your... friend?" Sam smiles sheepishly, but Ellen barrels on. "Dean, you were great. Let me know when you wanna come back. I'd love to have you."

Dean's smile widens at Ellen's words and he nods eagerly, maybe a little too eagerly. He can't help it, he feels happy with his life for the first time in so long. "Thank you for having me, Ellen. I'd love to come back." Maybe he could even bring his sketchbook sometime.

Ellen peels a couple twenties from an envelope labeled 'Models' and pushes them into Dean's hand. "Here's eighty. I know it's more than usual, but you were great."

When they're outside, Sam catches Dean by the hips and kisses him long and deep, sighing as they break. He grins, squeezing his hip. "Soooo...Ellen loves you. Think you wanna stick around for a couple more classes?"

The kiss catches Dean by surprise, but he gets with the program fast and wraps his arms around Sam's waist, having to stand on his toes a little to properly kiss him. He smiles broadly when they pull back and can't help but laugh gleefully, kissing Sam again, deep and long. "Think I'd love to come back as soon as possible." Licking his lips, Dean bites down on his lower lip, grin still etched on his face. "I know I already said it but really, thank you for bringing me."

Sam grins. "My pleasure," he says with a wink. "Oh, so shopping now? I'm really excited to see you in some sexy little outfits." Sam swoons internally, kissing Dean again and grinning. He abruptly sobers, giving Dean a serious look. "You're okay with it, right? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything."

Dean rolls his eyes with a grin and nods. "Yeah, I told you I am. You know..." He trails off and pulls Sam close, fingers trailing up his chest slowly until they grip his chin and stares into his eyes. "...if you're into makeup at all, I look really good wearing lipstick. Really brings out my 'girly' lips." Smirking, Dean places a feather light kiss on Sam's lips before pulling back, leaving him wanting more.

Sam listens wide-eyed, and those words make an image bloom in his mind. Dean, all done up with subtle lipstick and mascara to make his pretty eyelashes look longer... He would look just like a girl. "Jesus," Sam curses under his breath. "Would you ever consider wearing, um, extensions? Or a wig or something? So you look like the queen you are," Sam teases with a wink. Okay but Dean in a little school girl outfit with pigtails and pretty pink lips and a skirt that's too short– Sam can feel the blood rushing south at the mental image.

"I expect royal treatment from now on then." Dean chuckles softly and draws Sam closer, their chest practically pressing together. They're in plain sight for everyone to see and Dean can actually feel the stares but he doesn't care. Humming, he toys idly with Sam's collar as he thinks about it. "Not too sure about the wigs but maybe...a skirt, for starters. Some feminine clothes." He looks up and grins wickedly at Sam's wide eyes and how lustful he looks right then. "I'll take that hazy look as a hell yeah?"

Sam shakes himself, flushing and managing a sheepish grin. "That sounds incredible, Dean. And I don't mean to like, treat you like a–a dress up doll or anything, I just–" Sam exhales, smiling a little helplessly and running his hands down Dean's sides. "You're so pretty. And I wanna do so much kinky shit to you and with you–I mean, within your comfort zone, obviously, and–and if there's anything you wanna do, just tell me."

"I know." Dean assures Sam, his grin softening as he slips his hands under Sam's shirt to rub over bare skin softly. He knows it's more than just sex with Sam, even if he can't bring himself to say it out loud. Dean shrugs and starts walking away from campus, taking Sam's hand and ignoring the stares. "I like the idea of toys. Maybe some dildos, butt plugs, vibrating cock-rings..." He trails off and shrugs, grinning at Sam.

Sam exhales sharply, rubbing his eyes like he can scrub away the image of Dean stuffed full with a toy, squirming because Sam makes him wear it in public... Jesus, all these _kinks_. Sam never would've thought he was so nasty. Jess was so vanilla, and not that it was a bad thing, but Dean is so exciting.

"So shopping?" he says when he's sure his voice is steady, grinning back at Dean. "I think I'm gonna have to give myself a budget or else I'm gonna spend all my money buying you pretty little outfits."

"Yes, shopping." Dean laughs and squeezes Sam's hand tightly. His smile falters at Sam's last words though. Money's still a sore subject for Dean, he really can't help but feel like a burden every time it's mentioned or when Sam refuses to let him pay for staying in his apartment. "Well, I guess if you're picking them out...just...seriously, Sam, I don't want you spending too much money on me, especially on clothes."

Sam stops and catches Dean's hands, kissing his forehead. "Listen, Dean. I'm doing it 'cause I want to. I'm also a responsible adult who knows how to handle his money and a cheap-ass college student. I know where to get clothes for cheap. Okay? Besides, you're eighty dollars richer, moneybags. How about you buy me a smoothie on the way home?" He kisses Dean again, pulling back to make sure he's okay with this all.

Dean presses his lips together. He's still not so sure but Sam's reassurances, plus the promise that they won't be expensive clothes works for now to put him at ease. He relaxes into the kiss and nods with a smile when they pull away. "Alright. Smoothies are on me." They get into Sam's car and drive away, Dean reluctantly letting go of Sam's hand when he starts driving.

Sam lays a hand on Dean's thighs as he drives, humming happily. God, he's so fucking happy. He can't remember a time he's been so...content since Jess died. If Dean decided to leave... Sam’s throat squeezes at the thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some fluff and just overall happy times for our boys here, cause they deserve it! This story is almost over, in fact, I think next chapter might be the last one and I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read, left a comment or kudos! I hope you liked the story as much as I do :)


	5. Chapter 5

When they get to the mall, Sam leads Dean to one of his favorite thrift shops. The clothes are actually pretty recent, and they come in a lot of sizes–not to mention they're affordable, so needless to say it's Sam's favorite place.

Dean's starting to feel more at ease in Sam's clothes; it's a nice change from feeling completely out of place in his usually flashy, flamboyant clothes. He smiles when they enter the thrift shop and turns to peck Sam's cheek, the gestures seem to come naturally to him by now. "Why don't you pick me out some decent outfits and I'll go look for a substitute for your gigantic sweatpants?"

Sam nods, smiling at the kiss. It's really cute, honestly. He watches Dean's ass wistfully as he walks away, then turns to paw through some racks. He's not really sure what Dean's style is outside of his skin-tight black jeans and rainbow tanks, so he plays it safe and goes mostly with flannels and T-shirts. He grabs a couple funny ones with Monty-Python references, not sure if Dean'll get them, but it's worth a shot. He takes a stab at Dean's pant size and grabs some jeans that look comfortably snug rather than skin-tight, searching for him afterward with an armful of clothes.

Dean immediately starts looking for some sweatpants, limiting to picking out comfy clothes for now. After years of only wearing skin-tight clothing, he needs a rest. He picks a couple of band shirts, some AC/DC, Metallica and Black Sabbath along with a couple of jeans and turns around to find Sam with a bundle of clothes.

"Seems like you just picked out my entire wardrobe." He chuckles and examines the clothes with an approving nod. "Man, as much my clients loved it, I'm not gonna miss not wearing that rainbow top."

Sam chuckles a little awkwardly, flushing at the confession he's about to make. "Uh, that shirt's actually under my couch. It was hideous, so I kicked it under there after you took it off. I'm pretty sure it's still there." At Dean's look, Sam grins. "It was ugly, okay? Here, I got you funny shirts. These are better." He figures Dean doesn't need _quite_ as many clothes as Sam picked out, so he lays some of it out, letting Dean go through what he grabbed.

"You hid my shirt? Dude! You're an ass." He hits Sam's shoulder half-heartedly, shaking his head, but even he can't help but laugh along with a roll of his eyes. "I honestly thought I lost it." He murmurs and starts going through the clothes Sam picked out, discarding a few that aren't really his style but he ends up keeping most of them. "Just for that, I'm gonna buy you a rainbow shirt."

Sam grimaces. "Rainbow's not really my color." He scoops up the stuff he picked out originally and goes to pay, hefting the bag and waiting for Dean.

"Don't care. Consider it a present. I'll buy it someday." Dean shrugs and smirks. He has to bite the inside of his cheek when Sam pays for him though. God, he knows it's because the other wants to do it but it's still hard for him.

As they're walking out, Sam catches Dean's waist and kisses his temple. "Thanks for letting me buy you things. So, how 'bout some panties, now?"

Dean leans into the kiss Sam presses to his temple and internally sighs, then a little smile tugs at his lips and turns to kiss Sam's lips. "Sure. Lead the way, cowboy." He winks.

Sam snorts at the nickname, navigating to a shop with a deceptively small front in the back corner of the mall. He used to get his outfits for stripping here. Sam leads Dean in by the hand, smiling at the woman behind the desk who greets him by name.

"Sam! Been a while, Mr. Satisfaction," Pamela says, grinning, her eyes sliding suggestively to Dean. 

Sam flushes. Oh, God, he'd really hoped he could keep his stripper name from Dean for at least a little while longer.

"Hi Pamela," Sam mutters under her laughter, praying Dean won't ask.

"Mr. Satisfaction?" Dean cocks a brow and turns to Sam with a frown. He looks around the place and his brow furrows when he sees a leopard thong almost exact to the one Sam has. Huh, this must be where he bought his stripper clothes--whoa, wait.

Dean turns to Sam with a wide grin and wide eyes to match. "Wait a minute...was...was that your stripper name?" And at Sam's flush, he's done. Laughter erupts from him, his whole body shaking as he throws his head back. Oh, god. Oh, god, this is too good.

Sam hides his face in his hands, shaking his head.

Pamela cackles, giving him a toothy grin. "Oh, damn, was I not supposed to say that?" she says remorselessly.

Sam shoots her a glare and she just laughs harder. Sam sighs and just waits for Dean to finish laughing, arms crossed. "You done?" he asks, brow cocked. "Cause we can walk out of here, I don't have to buy you anything cute."

Fighting to catch his breath, Dean's chest heaves and he wipes away tears from his eyes, a few giggles still slipping through his lips. Oh man, he hasn't laughed that much in years. Once he finally gets himself under control, Dean cups Sam's face, sporting a huge smile. "Aww, c'mon Sam, don't be like that. Aren't you gonna give me a little satisfaction?" He laughs and kisses him before he can grumble. "I'm sorry. It's just so good."

Sam gives a long-suffering sigh, but he melts pretty quickly when Dean kisses him. "Yeah, yeah," Sam mutters, hauling Dean further into the store before Pamela can reveal anything else.

There's a whole section devoted to just sexy outfits. Sam's dying to grab a whole bunch, but he turns to Dean first, giving his ass an indulgent squeeze. "See anything you like? Because I'm telling you now, my taste is very cheesy and cliché."

Dean glares and swats at Sam's hand before breaking out into a grin. "I'd expect nothing less from you, Mr. Satisfaction." He chuckles; honestly, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to say that with a straight face. Kissing Sam in a placating manner, he starts searching through the outfits. "Mhm, where's the sexy schoolgirl outfit? That one's usually pretty sexy."

Sam grumbles at the name, but Dean's seemed to figure out that all it takes is a kiss to soothe him. Sam's eyes widen and he stutters for a moment. Did Dean read his mind or some shit? "Uh, how 'bout this one?" He grabs a set that includes a teeny tiny miniskirt, tall white socks and a garter belt, panties, heels, and a little bowtie. He's not sure how he feels about Dean in a bra; Sam's pretty sure he'd rather have him in a corset, if Dean would go for it. "Pink plaid or red plaid?"

"Red." Dean takes the skirt from Sam and turns around, looking over his shoulder as he measures the skirt's length by holding it over his ass. "What do you think? Short enough?" His gaze flickers up to Sam and he grins at the stutter he gets in response. "I need a top, too. Something white, maybe." Dean shrugs and inspects the heels with a smirk.

Sam might pass out. The skirt's just long enough to cover the curve of Dean's ass, but when he walks or _bends_ – Sam chokes back some sort of whine, nodding. Swallowing he paws through some of the other sets. He grabs a shirt button-up blouse, a full length one, a little red bra, and a black corset. "Preference?" Sam asks a little breathlessly, not sure if he can handle the answer.

Sam looks like he might just come in his pants any second now and Dean's not even dressed in the outfit yet. "Mhm, let's see." Dean looks critically at his choices, then reaches out to take the button-up blouse, placing it back where it was, the full length one goes next. He's between the red bra and black corset. Dean starts reaching for the corset and sees Sam's breath hitch, smirking, he guides his hand to the red bra instead. He's wearing the corset then. "Black looks good on me."

Sam doesn't answer. He just seizes Dean by the waist and kisses him hard, all lust and teeth and tongue. He squeezes Dean's body against his own, finally breaking when he has to pant for breath. "You're gonna look so hot, Dean, Jesus. My God. Okay." He releases Dean reluctantly, taking a step back and forcing himself to calm down. "Okay. So we're definitely taking that one." Sam looks back at the other costumes, trying to decide. God, there's so many and Dean would look so good in all of them. He makes a quiet noise, squeezing Dean's ass.

Dean's panting and flushing by the time Sam let's him go, slightly wide eyed but there's also a glint of something wicked there. Oh, he's gonna have so much fun with the outfits. Licking his lips, Dean turns back to the selection of clothes and instead of pushing away, he pushes his ass back into Sam's hand, reaching out for yet another costume. Kitty cat. It even has a set of fluffy ears. "I kinda like this one. What do you think?"

Sam nods almost feverishly. From what he can see, the outfit comes with a pair of booty shorts and a collar with a bell and paw gloves. God, that's kinky. It shouldn't be hot. It's just a dumb cat outfit. But it's so fucking hot. Sam grabs another set, hitting Dean with the puppy eyes. It's a maid costume–can he get any more cliché? But it comes with the skirt and the apron and this sexy sheer corset and the _headpiece_ and a choker and–and– It's just really, really hot, and Sam can't wait to get Dean all dressed up.

Dean bites on his lip at the next outfit. Goddamnit, who can resist those puppy dog eyes? Soulless people, that's who. "You weren't kidding when you said your taste was cliché." He teases but takes it from Sam and examines the items thoroughly and licks his lips. "Alright, we'll take it too, just stop it with the eyes. Jesus." He huffs a quiet chuckle and draws Sam closer with a kiss to his lips. "By the way, I'm paying the kitty cat one. No complaints."

Sam nods, coming back to himself a little bit. Okay. They're in public. He cannot rip Dean's clothes off, as much as he wants to. He leads Dean back up to the front, paying for the school girl and the maid costumes.

Pamela grins and slips a vibrating plug into his bag with a wink. "It's on me. Enjoy."

Sam just shakes his head at her wicked grin, smiling to himself and stepping to the side so Dean can pay.

Dean's eyes widen just in the slightest when they land on the plug she slips into the bag, when she says it's on her though, Dean's pretty sure his wicked grin matches hers, but for different reasons. He pays for the cat outfit, fingers itching to run through the set of fluffy ears already. God, the whole set was just captivating to him from the second he spotted it. Lots of clients have paid for kinky shit, within Dean's rules of course but he never thought he might actually enjoy playing them out. It's Sam though and that makes it all different.

"C'mon, that smoothie will calm you down, Sammy." The nickname seems to slip again and Dean freezes when he remembers, dropping the other's hand and turning to him. "Shit...I'm sorry. It just keeps slipping out."

Sam doesn't even notice the use of his nickname until Dean says something. Sam starts. He never let anybody but Jess call him that. Hell, he used to get pissed when people did. But Dean...he didn't even notice. He likes it.

Sam shakes his head, taking Dean's hand again. "It's fine, Dean. I–it's okay," he says, smiling a little. Yeah. Things are pretty okay. He kisses Dean's cheek, smiling to himself as they head to the smoothie place.

"Is it?" Dean asks nervously, but he smiles a little at the kiss to his cheek. He turns to Sam when they get to the smoothie place. "So can I keep calling you Sammy? Cause cowboy does suit you but I'd rather leave the one for the privacy of our home." Dean doesn't fully realize he referred to Sam's apartment as their home until a moment later. And it's not even the apartment. He's starting to think of Sam as his home.

'Our home'. Sam doesn't say anything about it, but his brows shoot up, a big pleased smile stretching across his face. "Yeah, you can call me Sammy," he says, bumping his hip against Dean's. 'Our home'. Does that mean he can start referring to Dean as his boyfriend, or is Dean still gonna fight him on that? Regardless, Sam really likes how much Dean seems to be settling in. It's really cute and he can't keep a big dumb smile off his face.

"Good." Dean gives a little bump with his hip in return and can't stop his own smile when he sees Sam's. The other looks so happy and this time Dean doesn't even try to fight the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. "Now tell me what smoothie you want. It's on me." It feels just like the kind of thing a boyfriend would do in a date. Maybe the term boyfriend wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Mango, please." Sam's itching to wrap his arms around Dean from behind as he orders their smoothies, but they're in public. It can wait. God's he's just so...giddy. Like a tween girl, but Dean's just...swoon. Sam shakes his head at himself. You're a twenty-two-year-old man, Wesson, get it together. What he really wants is to get Dean home, get him in one if those outfits, and fuck him senseless. God, he can't wait. Maybe they can even use that butt plug. 

"One mango and one pineapple smoothie, please." Dean pays for them and then turns to Sam, handing him the mango one. "You know..." He starts slowly, sipping on his smoothie to appear casual, keeping his gaze down and shrugging. "If you maybe, wanted to call me your boyfriend...I guess I wouldn't mind the label so much now." He grins around his straw before slowly looking up to gauge his reaction.

Sam grins broadly around his straw. Could this day get any better? "I mean, if you insist," Sam teases, laughing at Dean's grumbling. He takes him by the hand again as they head out to the car, humming to himself.

When they get to the car, Sam catches Dean and presses him against the warm metal for a moment so he can kiss him firmly, pulling back to wink and say, "Love you too. Now, let's go home and maybe play with these outfits a little?"

Breathing a little heavy now, Dean blushes, of course he does and licks his lips at the mention of the outfits. "I vote schoolgirl first."

Sam grins widely, pushing out a breath. "You're gonna look so sexy, Dean, God." His leg is bobbing the entire drive home and he can't stop imaging what Dean is gonna look like.

* * *

When they get back to his apartment, Sam leans in to kiss Dean on the cheek. "I'm gonna grab some hangers and hang up your clothes. Go get ready for me, babe." God, he's already half hard.

Dean reaches out to grab the costume and grins widely. "Yes, sir." He teases and chuckles lowly at the reaction that gets him.

When Sam leaves, Dean slips on the panties first once he's undressed and bites his lips at the feeling. They're so soft and feel so good against his shaved skin. Soon enough he's all dressed up, adjusting the corset and licking his slightly swollen lips at his reflection in the mirror. Fuck, he looks _hot_.

Sam grabs Dean's clothes and hangs them in his closet, a little warm and fuzzy just from that. Their belongings blending together, Dean in his apartment, his bed. He wonders if Dean's gonna put on makeup, if he even has any.

Sam settles back on the bed, suddenly looking down at himself consciously. Should he change? He's just wearing jeans and a T-shirt... No, he wants the focus to be on Dean. Sam keeps his hands off his chubby, as much as he wants to touch himself.

Dean kneels by his bag where he's been keeping it and rummages through his stuff, grinning in satisfaction when he finds it. Dean straightens up and looks into the mirror, applying the crimson lipstick, it makes his lips look glossy and okay yeah, it's sexy.

Smirking, he opens the door of the bathroom and steps out into Sam's bedroom, clearing his throat. "I'm ready."

Sam's eyes snap up and the blood rushes to his dick so fast he's light-headed. "Jesus Christ," Sam breathes faintly.

Dean looks fucking _edible_. His lips are bright red and girly and Sam wants them around his dick _now_. God, and that corset–it just accentuates Dean's slim waist and his hips, exaggerated by the teeny skirt, bowed legs in netted stockings that rise up into a tease of what's hiding under that skirt–Sam's on his feet and looms over Dean before his brain decides to do it, fisting a hand in his hair and gripping his hip.

"You're so sexy," Sam growls, voice already husky, desire gripping him like a claw. God, there's nothing else, just Dean, looking up at him with those pretty, pretty eyes and those pretty, pretty lips. "I wanna see what your mouth looks like stuffed full, baby."

Dean's breath hitches when Sam grips his hair, his hands automatically wrapping around the other's neck. God, the way Sam's looking at him...like he's the only thing that matters right now and he can't keep his eyes off of him. Fuck, he can feel the blood rushing south just by hearing Sam's words. "I think you already know." He murmurs, leaning forward until their faces are just inches away, eyes flickering down to Sam's lips. "You could use a reminder, though." Instead of kissing him, Dean brushes his lips against Sam's, feather light before pulling away and sauntering over to the bed, getting in his knees and giving Sam a perfect view of his ass in that tiny skirt. "I should've considered the length for when I bend over."

Sam's knees go a little weak when Dean bends over, flashing him that perfect covered daintily by lacy black panties. "It's perfect. You're perfect," Sam exhales, settling behind Dean. His runs his hand over Dean's ass, over the lacy panties, feeling how they mold to the curve. He flips Dean's skirt up, just to see what that looks like, then shivers. God, it's like drinking water after being stranded in a desert.

Sam straightens Dean's skirt, running his hands down over his hips to the backs of his thighs, then back up, under his panties, giving each cheek a squeeze. Sam pulls a hand back abruptly and spanks Dean's ass hard, his dick twitching at the noise it draws. Sam inhales sharply at how Dean's ass blooms red. Jesus fuck that's hot. "You like that? You're so naughty, Dean. You want more?"

A choked gasp falls from his lips at the first spank, body rocking forward a little with the force. Dean's hands twist the sheets and his eyes fall shut. Fuck, he does want more. He wants to have Sam's hand branded in his skin by the end of the night. "Please." He turns to look over his shoulder with wide green eyes, red lips parted on a shaky exhale as he sticks his ass out more.

Mother of God. Sam wants to devour that red mouth, but he doesn't wanna mess up Dean's makeup, so he hauls Dean bodily to the center of the bed so Sam can see his face in the mirror. Dean looks so pretty, so slutty, sticking his ass in the air so Sam can spank him.

"Pretty, slutty girl, aren't you, Dean?" Sam murmurs, pressing a kiss to the red mark on his ass. "Five on each side, okay? Count 'em." Sam brings his hand down once, harder than before, to see how much Dean can handle. God, the way his ass shakes and the _noises_. "Tell me if it's too hard," he murmurs, rubbing the cheek he just spanked.

Nodding at the instructions, Dean resists the urge to bite down on his lower lip in anticipation; he doesn't want to ruin the lipstick. Even when he prepares himself, the smack still takes his breath away, inhaling sharply and letting it out in a soft whine when he feels the burn Sam left behind, burying his face in the mattress. "I-Is that the best you can do? Try a little harder on the next four." He still manages to tease through a stutter. Oh yeah, he wants it hard and rough alright.

"I said count 'em," Sam says darkly, snapping the strap of Dean's garter belt against his red ass. "I'm gonna spank you again and you're gonna say 'two'." Sam doesn't spank him immediately, though. He rubs Dean's ass, feeling the hot skin, then lifts his hand abruptly. He sees Dean tense in the mirror and chuckles, going back to rubbing his marked skin.

Dean stills at Sam's tone, glancing over his shoulder and fuck--that dark expression in Sam's face has his dick twitching in his panties, hips rocking down once to get some friction. He locks eyes with Sam in the mirror, body tensing when he sees him lift his hand, preparing for the smack but Sam simply chuckles.

Once it looks like Dean's relaxed again, Sam brings his hand down with a _crack!_ against his ass, sucking a breath in. His palm _stings_ and God, the way Dean's body rocks forward. Sam trails a hand down Dean's thigh, feeling the fishnet, all the way down to his ankle and that high-heeled shoe. He's gonna fuck Dean on his back, Sam decides. With his legs thrown over his shoulders like a pretty little slut. Sam gives Dean's ass another brutal slap, a little lower this time–he wants Dean's whole ass to be red.

Just as he's relaxing, Dean's breath leaves him in a shout at the sudden spank. "T-two." He stutters, nails scratching the sheets as he buries his face into the mattress. "A-ah! Three..." His ass is burning, his hands shaking slightly where they're gripping the sheets tightly. He's not gonna get through five at all if the rest are just as brutal.

God, Dean is so pretty when he obeys. Something dark and dominant courses through Sam's intestines and up his throat, something he didn't realize he had in him. "Up on your hands. Lift your head. I wanna see your face, slut," Sam says quietly, though his voice is infused with unmistakable authority. It's such a rush when Dean _obeys_. Hard-headed, snarky Dean, and Sam's got him wordless and submissive. Just gorgeous. He squeezes the other ass cheek in a silent promise of the abuse it'll take later, snapping the garter strap against the red cheek and relishing the small twitch it gets from Dean.

He can see Dean's hands shaking and it breaks through Sam's carnal desire for a moment. He doesn't want to hurt Dean to the point where he's not enjoying it. So he gives him a moment, kissing over the red, red skin and murmurs sweet nothings, reminding Dean how precious and beautiful he is and that's why Sam loves to ruin him. Sam spanks him again, full palm, right in the middle of his cheek. For a brief moment, there an imprint of his hand and Sam chokes just a little bit, his dick surging against his fly like tidal waves against a floodgate.

Dean takes a moment, breathing in deeply before getting up on his hands, looking into the mirror so Sam can see his flushed face, crimson lipstick a little smudged now. His body twitches at the snap of the garter belt and he hisses. There's a moment there though, when Sam lets up to murmur sweet nothings against his skin as soft lips brush over his ass, soothing the burn, only to make it come alive again as Sam spanks him hard.

A choked cry falls from his lips and Dean's eyes fall shut, remembering just in time to keep counting. "Four." It's a mere whisper now. His dick's leaking where it's trapped under the lace but Dean doesn't touch himself, just pushes his ass back and silently asks for more, for Sam to take him, do whatever he wants with him. Dean will obey.

Dean's voice is barely audible and Sam's afraid it's too much and Dean's just too proud–or Christ, _scared_ – to say something. But his eyes catch Dean's dick, untouched but leaking like a faucet and trapped in that delicate black lace and Sam nearly comes in his jeans. He's _loving_ it. Dean breaks so beautifully. He meets Dean's eyes in the mirror and sucks in a breath, letting it out shakily. His eyes are watery and a little pink and it just accentuates the green and how needy and vulnerable Dean looks. He runs his fingers under the straps and the lace, enjoying the feeling of Dean's ass on his palm.

"One more, doll, and then I'm gonna do the other side." He thinks he hears Dean let out a little noise and Sam shudders. "And if you're really good, I'll let you come after, okay?" Sam inhales, and brings his hand down hard across Dean's ass.

Dean's eyes are a little watery from the spanks, and part of him wants to beg for Sam to stop, because he wants more, he wants to feel him sliding inside of him _now_ , but he catches his eyes in the mirror and can't help but feel...submissive, right there in his hands and knees, ass sticking out and lips parted in a silent scream as Sam spanks him again. "F-five." He's pretty sure Sam's hand is branded in his left cheek by now. Jesus Christ, he can't believe this is the same shy kid that approached him in that alley back then. He'd been so nervous back then, and ended up passing out once they got to his apartment, anyway.

Watching Dean's face in the mirror might be Sam's favorite part. It's just so–expressive. Everything Dean feels shows on his face. And Sam can see how bad he wants to get fucked. So he makes quick work of the other cheek, going a little easier, but making sure Dean counts and that he _feels_ it. Sam sits back, rubbing Dean's bright red ass, sighing out a shaky breath.

Dean's grateful when Sam makes quick work of the other cheek. God, it must show on his face how badly he wants to get fucked. Dean feels like such a slut for Sam, in the best way possible. By the time Sam's done spanking him, his eyes are teary and his breathing labored and he whimpers softly when Sam maneuvers him to sit in his lap.

"You look so good, Dean. So sexy and pretty. C'mere. Look at your ass." He gathers Dean on to his lap, turning him so his ass is facing the mirror so Dean can twist and look at it. Sam kisses him then, slowly, sweetly, gently rubbing his cock over his panties. Dean's so beautiful and compliant for him. "I love you," Sam murmurs, kissing Dean again so he doesn't have to respond if he doesn't want to.

Raising his head, Dean twists his head to look at his ass and his breath catches in his throat. Fuck, it's bright red and Dean swears he can see Sam's palm imprinted in the skin, just how he wanted to. Sighing shakily into the kiss, Dean bites down harder than he meant to on the other's lower lip when his cock is rubbed through the panties. "Fuck me. Please." He responds instead when they pull away, hands tangling in Sam's hair and tugging.

Sam wanted to drag this out a little more and enjoy how sexy Dean looks in his little outfit, but one look at Dean's face and Sam knows he's not gonna last that long. Sam kisses Dean again, laying him on his back gently. He starts unlacing his corset, kissing down his chest as he exposes skin. Dean's chest rising and falls with each shaky breath under his mouth and Sam runs his hands obsessively over Dean's stocking'd thighs. "Do you know how sluts get fucked?" Sam asks in a murmur, fitting Dean's legs around his waist, slipping a hand under his skirt and teasing his cock over his panties again, rubbing at the wet spot on the lace.

Exhaling softly when he's laid down on the bed, Dean's eyes flutter shut once more as the corset comes undone and Sam starts kissing down his chest. His hands mess up Sam's hair, tugging at the locks and tightening his grip when Sam starts rubbing his cock through his panties again. He's already stained them with precome. Eyes blinking back open, Dean looks up at Sam and can't help but bite down on his lower lip at the question. His lipstick wasn't mean to last the long anyway, but he'd like to get the smudged, messy look only adds to him being a complete and utter _slut_ for Sam. "Balls deep?" He ventures in a murmur, legs spreading invitingly. "Hard and rough?"

Dean's lipstick is smeared now and it's sexy in a way Sam didn't anticipate. He's stuck on it for a moment before he responds. "On their backs with their fuckin' heels in the air," Sam says with a smirk, pulling Dean's legs up over his shoulders. His skirt falls at this angle and Sam gets a front view of Dean's cock in his pretty panties. Sam inhales. "You're keeping these on," he says huskily, snapping the waistband against Dean's skin. "You're so wet for me, babe." Sam starts nudging his fingers against Dean's hole through the panties, mouthing hungrily at his neck.

Dean manages a smirk when Sam throws his legs over his shoulders, blushing when his skirt falls on his chest, showing Sam a perfect view of his hard, flushed cock trapped in the lace panties. "Kinky." He teases when he's told to keep the panties on, although, honestly, this is the kinkiest sex he's ever had and fuck, Dean absolutely loves it. Dean's hole clenches at the first touch, letting out a shaky breath and pulling Sam closer by the back of his head, arching up. "Mark me." He breathes.

Sam bites on the side of Dean's neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth and bruising it dark before shifting slightly so he can cover more area. Dean's so slutty for him. God, it's just–Jess was always a little embarrassed, too shy to be like this in bed. But _Dean_. Sam pulls back to admire his handiwork, exhaling. He inches Dean's panties to the side and wiggles a finger into him. He's still stretched and a little wet from that morning and Sam grins.

"Wet for me, babe." Sam unzips his jeans and pushes his boxers down just far enough to get his cock out, throbbing with need. God, Dean's so fuckable. Sam just wants to shove into his body and rock his world. But he presses the head against Dean's hole, kissing his chest and giving him a smirk. "You want it, Dean? My little slut?"

The thought of having Sam's marks on his neck sends a rush through his body. Belonging to Sam. Fuck. How did he go from not wanting to put a label on this to being completely devoted to Sam? Jesus Christ.

Back arching, Dean moans softly as a finger wiggles inside; he's still slick from this morning, Sam could just slip in right now. Looking down just in time to set eyes on Sam's hard cock, Dean bites down on his lower lip, gaze snapping upwards to Sam's eyes. "I want you to fuck me. Now. Just push the panties to the side and fuck me with my heels in the air. Like the little slut you know I am for you." He breathes, tugging harshly in Sam's hair and tugging him forcefully for a breathtaking kiss.

Sam wants to suck in a breath at those filthy words, but Dean's already yanking him down and stealing his breath. His hips move out of his control, shoving forward and sheathing himself in Dean completely.

The sound that leaves his lips when Sam finally slips inside of him is indescribable, a mewl and a whimper and a cry all mixed into one. God, and he's really going for it now, hips snapping brutally with each thrust, rocking his body forward. His arms wrap around Sam's back, nails scratching down the skin and digging in deeper as his pace picks up.

Sam groans, long and loud and it's almost a sob because Dean is Nirvana. Dean's body is Sam's holy grail. He braces his elbows next to Dean's body, grabbing his shoulders and hauling him down for each thrust, panting into his mouth as his hips snap forward, colliding with Dean's hot ass and Sam's not gonna last long, not when Dean's dressed up so pretty and his lips are smudged red and he's got that bruise blooming so pretty on his pale neck.

Fuck, this is it for Dean. Sam's perfect and kinky and he makes him feel like no one else has ever made him feel. His eyes are a little glassy, red lips parted wide as the pleasured sounds seem to just be pouring out. He's not gonna last. "Please let me come." Dean begs, chest heaving and his words coming out choked and breathless.

Sam lets out a growl, straightening up so he can fuck Dean harder, gripping the headboard and one of Dean's legs and slamming into him. The headboard crashes against the wall with each thrust with a satisfying _bang!,_ loud enough that one of Sam's neighbors shouts something over the noise of their heavy breath and the filthy slap of skin on skin. Sam grins wickedly and responds with a savage thrust, drawing a loud noise out of Dean and sending the headboard crashing into the drywall.

"I wanna hear you scream my name when you come, Dean," Sam growls, slowing down just long enough to angle his hips so he's hitting Dean's prostate dead-on. Then he goes back to his brutal pace, eyes tracing over Dean's cock bobbing in his panties, his chest all flushed and his _face_. So desperate, so fucked-out, so slutty and pretty and needy for _Sam_.

Apparently Sam can still fuck him harder than before and fuck, if it doesn't have him completely under the other's mercy. His nails scratch down Sam's back hard enough that for a second he's worried he might've hurt Sam, but the other simply growls and thrusts hard enough to send the headboard crashing against the wall, rocking Dean's body as it does. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-- _God_. He doesn't even hear the neighbor's scream over his own desperate one. "P-please." He practically sobs then, whining loudly at the slow slide against his prostate. He doesn't know what he's asking for. For Sam to fuck him harder, to stop, to keep going.

His lipstick's gone to hell by now, there's a collar of hickeys decorating his neck and his whole body is flushed, the freckles standing out. One more savage thrust that nails his prostate dead-on has him coming with a loud sob of Sam's name, hands scrabbling for purchase on his back as his body practically convulses with the force of his orgasm, eyes shut tightly and cock twitching. The panties end up completely stained.

Dean's a howling, whimpering, twitching mess under him and that surges something primal in Sam, something visceral and pleased and victorious. And Dean's–he's– Sam almost fucking blacks out for a moment as his orgasm rips through his body, an animal growl pushing past his lip and ending in a stutter of Dean's name, his hips pumping before shoving deep, Dean's nails drawing hot lines down his back, Dean's face, Dean's belly covered in his own come, Dean's freckles, Dean's hickies, _DeanDeanDean_

Sam lets out one last gasping breath before his body turns to jelly and he nearly collapses on top of his boyfriend. He doesn't trust his mouth to work well enough to speak or kiss him, so he just shares Dean's air, staring at him with awe and love and desire and something akin to worship. He can feel Dean's body still twitching, still working through the aftershocks, and Sam himself shivers, finally composing himself enough to drop Dean's legs off his shoulder. He pants, pulling his T-shirt off (Jesus, he'd completely forgotten he was still wearing it until now, he's still in his jeans, too), staying buried in Dean's body, and drops his face into Dean's neck, mumbling a dazed, "Wow."

Dean doesn't see Sam come, eyes still tightly shut but he does feel him shaking and shivering on top of him, he hears the guttural growl that falls from his lips. He waits until the black spots have gone away to slowly open his eyes, staring dazedly up at the ceiling with a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. Fuck, Sam broke him. His hands slowly trail up to the other's hair, fingers threading through the locks absently. Managing a content hum when Sam buries his face in Dean's neck, he opens his mouth to attempt to say something. "Y-you're..." he rasps, exhaling shakily before continuing, "...amazing."

Sam chuckles throatily, slowly letting his body come to slump on top of Dean's. It's a minute before he can gather enough brain power to respond. " _You're_ amazing," Sam mumbles, his lips dragging against Dean's neck as he speaks. The waves of post-orgasmic haze are washing through him like waves on a beach, sapping his motivation to do anything but lay on top of Dean. Sam wants to close his eyes and fall asleep still nestled inside Dean, just stay wrapped up in his body. He's not sure if hours or just minutes pass, but Sam finally composes himself enough to speak and he mumbles, "That was...best sex I've ever had."

Shivering slightly when Sam's lips drag over his neck, Dean hums in agreement. "Best sex ever." He mumbles and sighs, gripping Sam's chin gently to tilt his head up and kiss him. It's slow and soft and a little bit clumsy as neither of them have gathered enough strength yet after that mind blowing orgasm. He doesn't want Sam to pull out, plus he doesn't know if the other has the energy but he also wants Sam to hold him. Yes, okay? He likes cuddling with Sam and being the small spoon. Dean doesn't care right now, so he voices what he wants. "Think you can pull out? Wanna cuddle."

Sam laughs in a small huff, kissing Dean lazily one more time. "Sure, babe. Lemme undress you." He pulls out of Dean slowly, wincing and sighing at being exposed to the cold air outside his body. "Try and hold my come in, baby, okay? I'm gonna grab the plug." He nudges his fingers against Dean's hole, pressing his come back inside until Dean tightens up.

He shucks off his jeans and boxers, rifling through the bag and grabbing the plug. He watches Dean's face to make sure it's alright before twisting the plug gently into him. It goes in easy with how slick and loose Dean is. Sam sits back, admiring the view with a little grin. He snatches his phone from the table in a burst of energy and snaps a picture of Dean all messy and wrecked in his outfit. Sam grins at him and kisses his knee, then helps him take everything off.

Licking his lips, Dean looks down at the plug when Sam comes back and nods, a soft moan and a sigh of content escaping his mouth when it slides in, filling him. Closing his eyes, he doesn't see Sam take the picture but he feels him take off the garter belt, stockings, the skirt and finally the come-stained panties. "Gonna have to wash those." He murmurs absently and reaches blindly for Sam's hand once he's undressed, tugging him down and coaxing him to wrap his arms around Dean.

Sam tosses everything on the floor and grabs his T-shirt to wipe Dean's belly, finally settling next to him with a long, content sigh. He curls around Dean's back, his arm settling in the dip of his side. He gives the plug a little push, smirking at Dean's reaction. How did he get so lucky with Dean? Who is Sam to deserve someone like Dean? He's not gonna argue, though. Sam passes out happily, his front warmed by Dean's body.

Dean ends up passing out right after Sam; it takes some time to get used to but eventually he settles in his sleep with the plug inside of him.

* * *

He sleeps through the whole night and by the next day when he wakes up, Sam's still asleep, curled around him. Humming, Dean slowly turns on his side so he's facing Sam and just takes a moment to look at him. God, how did he end up with someone like Sam in his life? Raising a hand, Dean starts tracing along his face gently, fingertips brushing his lips when the other finally starts stirring.

Sam rouses slowly to the touch of Dean's fingers, kissing his fingertips groggily. He smiles at him, remembering the previous night with a soft groan. He didn't mean to sleep through the night. It was just supposed to be a nap. But man... Dean wiped him out. Sam's eyes dart to the dark, broken ring of bruises on Dean's neck, satisfaction curling in his belly. Dean is _his_.

He reaches up to curl a hand lightly around Dean's throat, kissing him softly. His other hand slips lower to rest over the curve of Dean's ass, imagining where the shape of his hand is. "That was great," he says finally, smirking at Dean. "Did you hear my neighbors yelling?"

Dean leans into Sam's touch and positively melts into the kiss, shivering slightly at the hand that trails down to rest over the curve of his ass. "I didn't hear anything over the sound of my own screams." He murmurs, eyes wandering from Sam's hazel eyes to the little mole on his nose, to his pink lips and back up into his eyes. He's staring at Sam in awe and wonder and he feels right at home, here in Sam's arms, a home that had been consumed in flames along with his mother years ago. It feels right. Fuck trust issues, Dean is happy.

Leaning forward to kiss Sam again, Dean drags the kiss out and when he pulls back, he whispers against his lips. "I love you."

Sam blinks, not quite believing it. Dean said it. And somehow, nothing's different.

He's not really sure how they ended up like this, tangled together, sharing oxygen, wrapped around each other like twine. He barely remembers the face of that pretty hooker in the alley, the stranger. Now it's all Dean, all confidence and cocky smirks, all hidden shyness and small little pleased noises. A sketchbook with beautiful drawings. The filled dear next to Sam. That's who Dean is. And he's Sam's.

Sam smiles, a small, happy little smile, and pecks Dean's lips. "I know."


End file.
